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HX64095266 
R154.G912  G91  1918  S ,-^eor  Grw  an  ^-^ 


SURGEON  CROW 


AN  A-MERTCAN  IN  THE 
RUSSIAN    FIGHTING 


Columbia  (HnitJer^ftp 

CoUege  of  ^]b?)Stciansi  anb  burgeons 
ILihvaxp 


'  Old  Corner  Book 


SURGEON  GROW 


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Surgeon  Grow  in  a  Russian  trench.     Note  the  trench's  over-hang,  built  as 
a  protection  against  shrapnel. 


SURGEON  GROW 

AN  AMERICAN  IN  THE 
RUSSIAN  FIGHTING 


BY 

MALCOLM  C.  GROW 

Formerly  Lieut.-Colonel  Imperial  Russian  Army  Medical  Corps 


WITH  TWENTY-SEVEN  ILLUSTRATIONS  FROM 
PHOTOGRAPHS  TAKEN  BY  THE  AUTHOR 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


&1I 


Copyright,  ipiS,  by 
Frederick  A.  Stokes  Company 


All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of  translation  into 
foreign  languages 


1: 


OS 

CM 


TO 

THE  HONORABLE  RAY  BAKER 

FORMERLY  SECRETARY  TO  THE  AMERICAN  AMBASSADOR  TO  RUSSIA 
NOW  DIRECTOR  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES  MINT 

ALSO   TO 

COLONEL   A.  E.  KALPASCHNECOFF 

GENERAL  MICHAEL    PLESCHCOFF 

AND 

MY  OTHER   RUSSIAN   FRIENDS 


FOREWORD 

One  hot  July  day  in  19 17,  on  a  road  a  couple 
of  miles  back  of  the  Russian  trenches,!  witnessed 
an  incident  which  was  to  me  one  of  the  most  sig- 
nificant in  all  my  Russian  experience. 

It  was  just  when  the  Russian  offensive,  the  plan 
of  which  was  conceived  and  carried  out  by  the 
Kerensky  government,  was  beginning  to  break 
down.  The  revolutionary  soldiers  had  gone  for- 
ward in  their  attacks  when  ordered  to  do  so,  but 
their  morale  was  bad  and  when  the  Germans 
counter-attacked,  the  line  gave  way  at  a  certain 
point.  Wild  rumors  were  circulated  by  pro-Ger- 
man tools  who  were  in  the  Russian  ranks.  They 
cried  out  that  the  German  cavalry  was  surround- 
ing them,  and  caused  a  panic  among  the  Russians, 
who  turned  and  fled. 

I  was  standing  by  the  roadside  talking  to  a  Brit- 
ish officer  who  was  about  to  bring  up  his  armored 
cars  to  get  into  action  against  the  Germans.  Sev- 
eral of  these  armored  car  sections  had  been  sent 


viii  FOREWORD 

by  the  British  to  Russia  to  give  what  help  they 
could.  The  officer  had  ridden  ahead  of  his  motors 
to  investigate  the  condition  of  the  roads.  As  we 
stood  talking  the  roll  of  drums,  crackles  of  rifles 
and  machine-gun  fire  could  be  heard  from  our  posi- 
tion. 

Suddenly  the  British  officer  grasped  my  arm 
and  pointing  down  the  road  in  the  direction  of  the 
trenches,  exclaimed,  "My  word,  old  chap  I  what  is 
raising  that  cloud  of  dust?" 

A  great  yellow  cloud  rose  in  the  air,  sw'eeping 
towards  us  rapidly.  I  thought  of  artillery  limbers 
coming  back  for  more  shells,  but  the  volume  of 
that  cloud  was  too  great.  As  it  rolled  nearer  we 
made  out  a  great  straggling  disorganized  mob  of 
soldiers,  running  for  their  lives,  apparently. 
Many  were  without  hats  or  coats  and  some  had 
thrown  their  rifles  away. 

They  were  a  panic-stricken  mob  bent  only  on 
putting  as  much  space  between  themselves  and  the 
Germans  as  possible.  Their  grimy  faces  were 
streaked  with  sweat,  their  eyes  glared  wildly  like 
the  eyes  of  a  stampeding  herd  of  steers,  as  they 
bore  down  upon  us. 

When  they  were  about  a  hundred  feet  from  us 
the  dapper  little  English  lieutenant  stepped  into 


FOREWORD  ix 

the  middle  of  the  road,  raised  his  walking  stick 
aloft  with  his  left  hand  and  held  out  his  right 
hand  w'ith  the  gesture  of  a  traffic-policeman  stop- 
ping a  runaway  horse. 

The  frightened  soldiers  in  the  foremost  ranks 
of  the  fleeing  mob  checked  their  pace,  those  in  the 
rear  crowded  on.  I  expected  to  see  them  sweep 
that  little  khaki-clad  figure  aside  like  a  straw,  or 
trample  him  under  foot.  There  were  no  Russian 
officers  In  sight.  I  thought  they  might  have  mur- 
dered any  officers  who  had  tried  to  stop  their 
flight  and  I  expected  to  see  the  Englishman  go 
dowft  with  a  bullet  or  a  bayonet  in  his  chest. 
Strange  to  say  the  entire  crowd  of  nearly  500  men 
stopped  before  that  dapper  little  figure  with  the 
outstretched  arms.  They  stood  stock  still,  their 
great  burly  chests  heaving,  their  brown  faces  shin- 
ing with  moisture. 

There  was  a  strange  silence  for  a  moment,  the 
thunder  of  pounding  boots  on  hard  earth  had 
ceased  and  only  the  deep  roll  of  artillery  reached 
my  ears.  Then  a  clear,  almost  boyish  voice  began 
speaking  in  very  bad  Russian.  The  little  officer 
told  those  Russians  what  he  thought  of  them, 
what  cowards  they  were  to  be  running  away,  and 
ordered  them  to  return  and  fight.     It  was  not  a 


X  FOREWORD 

very  grammatical  speech  but  It  was  forceful  and 
liberally  interspersed  with  good  English  "cuss 
words."  The  mob  stood  silently  listening,  many 
with  a  shamefaced  expression.  They  crowded  up 
nearer  to  hear,  they  forgot  their  panic  of  a  mo- 
ment before.  When  he  finished  speaking  a  scat- 
tered cheer  which  soon  grew  into  a  lusty  roar 
from  500  throats  boomed  out.  Several  under- 
officers  and  soldiers  said  a  few  words  and  in  a 
trice  they  had  formed  into  an  orderly  body  in 
columns  of  eight  and  were  marching  back  toward 
the  battlefield.  Those  who  had  thrown  their  rifles 
away  picked  them  up  again  and  returned  and 
fought  like  demons. 

Had  that  ofBcer  been  a  Russian  he  would  have 
been  killed  in  an  Instant,  but  the  mere  fact  that 
he  was  a  foreigner  saved  the  situation.  The  Rus- 
sian soldier  has  a  great  respect  for  the  French, 
the  Enghsh  and  the  American.  Especially  is  the 
American  looked  up  to,  and  it  is  astonishing  the 
Influence  that  can  be  wielded  by  one  of  our  country- 
men. The  Russian  Is  a  simple-minded,  childlike 
individual,  but  he  is  also  an  idealist  and  at  heart 
he  loves  his  fellowmen.  Being  primitive,  his  pas- 
sions, either  of  love  or  hate,  admiration  or  scorn, 
are  naturally  colossal.    He  is  also  sensitive  to  ex- 


FOREWORD  xi 

traneous  influences,  as  witness  the  effect  of  Ger- 
man propaganda. 

He  is,  and  will  be  in  the  future,  just  as  suscepti- 
ble to  the  sympathy  or  criticism  of  the  American 
people.  At  this  time  he  needs  help,  he  needs  sym- 
pathy and  above  all  he  needs  understanding.  We 
will  gain  nothing  by  adverse  criticism,  but  should 
reap  much  benefit  both  now  at  this  very  critical 
time  in  our  national  existence  and  in  after  years 
if  we  pursue  the  proper  course  toward  Russia. 

I  have  given  a  few  lectures  on  Russia  in  the 
United  States  and  have  been  struck  by  the  division 
of  feeling  towards  the  Russian  soldier.  One  at- 
titude is  of  distinct  and  decided  contempt;  the 
other  is  a  real  appreciation  of  what  he  has  done  in 
the  past  for  the  Allies,  and  of  the  great  sacrifice 
he  has  made  for  our  cause,  with  a  warm  expres- 
sion of  sympathy  for  his  present  helpless  and  piti- 
able condition. 

The  book  I  have  written  contains  no  argument. 
I  have  tried  to  tell  the  simple  story  of  what  I  saw, 
to  relate  my  own  experiences  and  impressions  in  a 
purely  narrative  style,  leaving  the  reader  to  draw 
his  own  conclusions.  My  earnest  desire  is  to  bring 
plainly  before  the  American  people  the  heroic 
fight  these  peasant  soldiers  put  up  while  suffering 


xii  FOREWORD 

under  most  adverse  conditions  in  the  field  and 
while  many  baneful  influences  were  at  work  in  the 
rear,  undermining  the  organization  of  the  Russian 
government  and  military  machine. 

Not  only  does  Russia  need  our  help  at  this  time 
but  I  think  all  will  agree  that  we  need  Russia's 
help. 

Surely  there  should  be  a  bond  of  sympathy  be- 
tween this  the  oldest,  and  Russia  the  youngest 
democracy,  and  a  united  front  against  Prussian 
autocracy  and  militarism. 

M.  C.  G. 

Media,  Pa.,  March  22,  1918. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  I  Go  TO  Russia i 

II  Two  Weeks  OF  Sight-seeing    ...  ii 

III  The  Hussars  Hospital  at  Tsarskoe- 

Selo 20 

IV  Preparing  to  Go  to  the  Front     .     .  30 
V  Off  to  the  Front 39 

VI  The  Spectacle  in  the  Frozen  Lake  51 

VII  The  Professor  of  Mathematics  .     .  61 

VIII  In  the  Russian  Trenches  ....  73 

IX  I  Go  "Over  THE  Top" 94 

X  I  Meet  THE  Czar 119 

XI  Over  the  German  Lines     ....  133 

XII  Through  a  Shower  of  Shells       .     .  143 

XIII  The  Battle  of  Postovy      .     .     .     .  155 

XIV  The  Dogs  of  War 169 

XV  Sound  Sleepers 177 

XVI  Injured  by  a  Shell 186 

XVII  The  Medal  of  St.  George       .     .     .  196 

XVIII  A  Demonstration  Attack  ....  202 

XIX  We  Join  Brusiloff's  Big  Drive    .     .  219 

XX  The  Battle  of  the  Stockhod  .     .     .  243 

XXI  We  Break  Through! 263 

XXII  A  Blind  Army 275 

XXIII  The  Gas  Attack 282 

XXIV  The  Revolution 286 

XXV  After  the  Revolution  .     .     .     .     .  295 

xiii 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Surgeon  Grow  in  a  Russian  trench Frontispiece 

PACING 
PAGE 

Russian  troops  on  their  way  south  to  help  in  Brusiloff's  big 
drive  talk  with  wounded  men  returning  from  the  fighting     .       lo 

Wounded  men  waiting  to  be  loaded  onto  the  cattle  trucks  that 
served  as  evacuation  trains 10 

German  officers  of  a  regiment  of  Prussian  guards     ....       56 

Battle  flag  of  the  captured  regiment  of  Prussian  guards      .     .       56 

White  gowns  were  worn  by  the  Russian  troops  as  a  camouflage 
when  raiding  the  German  trenches  through  the  wastes  of 
snow 108 

One  of  the  first  women  soldiers 108 

Abandoned  car  of  Prince  Eitel  Friedrich  of  Germany,  being 
hauled  out  of  the  mud  by  Cossacks  who  captured  it  .      .      .      126 

Mid-day  during  the  winter  on  the  Northern  front    ....     126 

Machine  guns  mounted  on  revolving  stand  for  use  against 
enemy  aeroplanes 134 

German  albatross-type  aeroplane  shot  down  by  the  Russian 
anti-aircraft  guns 134 

Surgeon  Grow  at  the  battle  of  Postovy,  loading  wounded  into 
a  little  two-wheeled  cart  which  served  as  ambulance  .      .      .     164 

Wounded  men  arriving  in  the  crude  two-wheeled  ambulance, 
the  best  conveyance  known  on  the  Russian  front        .      .      .      164 

Sanitary  dogs,  or  dogs  of  war 174 

This  dog  has  located  a  wounded  man  and  is  taking  his  hat  as 

identification  and  means  of  bringing  aid 174 

XV 


rvi  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


A  dressing  station  back  of  the  lines  at  the  battle  of  Postovy  .     194 

Seriously  wounded  soldier  being  carried  in  by  stretcher  bearers 
during  the  demonstration  attack 214 

"Streams  of  wounded  soldiers  barely  able  to  walk,  reeled  along 
like  drunken  men  through  semi-darkness  headed  for  our 
dressing  station" 214 

A  dressing  station  during  the  battle  of  Stockhod       ....     244 

Type  of  two-wheeled  springless  cart  that  served  as  ambulance 
on  the  Russian  front 244 

Cossacks  charging  into  a  burning  village  to  clean  out  the 
Austro-Germans,  during  the  battle  of  Stockhod    ....     262 

"I  know  that  had  we  not  recovered  his  body  I  should  have 
been  haunted  all  my  life  by  the  vision  of  that  dangling  form 
on  the  barbed  wire" 262 

Orderly  who  rescued  a  wounded  man  who  lay  for  five  days 
under  the  German  barbed  wire 272 

Shot  through  the  lung,  this  wounded  Russian  soldier  lay  for  five 
days  under  the  German  barbed  wire  not  40  feet  from  their 
trenches 272 

The  dead  laid  in  rows  after  the  gas  attack 282 

Large  bomb-proof  used  as  a  dressing  station  and  small  bomb- 
proof in  foreground  where  the  author  lived  during  the  win- 
ter of  1916-1917     284 

Burial  of  the  dead  after  the  gas  attack 284 


SURGEON  GROW 


CHAPTER  I 

I  GO  TO  RUSSIA 

TF  Dr.  Edward  Egbert,  of  Washington,  D.  C, 
•^  had  not  been  as  persuasive  a  talker  as  he 
was  skilled  as  a  surgeon,  the  most  eventful  eight- 
een months  of  my  life  would,  I  suppose,  have  been 
passed  instead  in  the  humdrum  pursuit  of  my  pro- 
fession as  a  Philadelphia  physician. 

As  a  physician,  I  would  have  followed  with 
more  than  average  interest  the  great  drama  then 
being  unfolded  in  Europe,  because  warfare,  with 
all  its  pain  and  suffering,  makes  a  special  appeal 
to  medical  men,  but  my  part,  like  that  of  the  bulk 
of  Americans,  would  have  been  that  of  a  sympa- 
thizing onlooker  rather  than  that  of  an  active 
participant.  At  any  rate,  not  until  the  United 
States  had  entered  the  war  would  it  seriously  have 
occurred  to  me  to  disrupt  my  personal  affairs  to 


2  SURGEON  GROW 

take  a  part  In  a  struggle  in  which  we  were  but 
remotely  interested. 

As  it  was,  however,  the  whole  aspect  of  things, 
as  far  as  I  was  concerned,  was  changed  by  a  re- 
markable conversation  I  had  with  Dr.  Egbert  in 
Washington  in  August,  191 5.  That  interview 
threw  me  into  the  great  struggle  almost  as  sud- 
denly as  Europe  herself  became  engulfed  in  it. 

Some  eight  months  before,  Dr.  Egbert  had 
sailed  from  this  country  for  Russia  to  become 
chief  surgeon  of  the  American  Red  Cross  hospital 
at  Kiev.  He  was  home  again  on  a  short  leave 
of  absence  and  planned  to  return  within  a  few 
weeks. 

We  were  in  the  Hotel  Willard  in  Washington. 
It  was  a  typical  sultry  August  evening  and  we 
were  seated  by  an  open  window  although  all  the 
air  we  got  came  in  the  form  of  hot  gusts  from 
the  street,  bringing  with  them  the  shrill  calls 
of  newsboys,  the  honking  of  motor-car  horns  and 
the  rattle  of  the  street-cars. 

As  Dr.  Egbert  described  to  me  some  of  the 
conditions  prevailing  on  the  Russian  front,  how- 
ever, and  the  terrible  things  he  had  seen  and 
undergone,  I  ceased  to  notice  the  sounds  of  the 
busy  city.    His  story  carried  me  to  war-torn  Ga- 


I  GO  TO  RUSSIA  3 

licia  and  before  my  eyes  passed  a  stream  of 
wrecked  humanity,  straggling  back  through  the 
dusky  forest  isles  from  the  field  of  battle  which 
lay  at  their  farther  border. 

I  could  hear  the  cries  of  the  wounded,  the 
screeching  of  the  shells  and  the  rattle  of  the  ma- 
chine-guns and  rifles. 

"When  I  was  over  there  this  spring,"  the  doctor 
told  me,  "I  saw  thousands  of  wounded  sent  back 
to  the  evacuation  hospitals  with  only  the  care 
which  could  be  given  them  by  orderlies — men  who, 
it  is  true,  had  received  a  few  months'  training 
but  who  lacked  any  real  knowledge  of  modern 
aseptic  methods  in  the  treatment  of  the  wounded. 

"Just  think,"  he  continued,  "the  Russian  regi- 
ments number  four  thousand,  and  sometimes  after 
a  fight  a  bare  few  hundred  come  back  unscathed, 
perhaps  a  thousand  being  killed  and  the  balance 
— more  than  two  thousand — being  more  or  less 
seriously  wounded — and  the  regiment  has  just 
three  doctors !  What  possible  chance  have  three 
doctors  to  give  proper  attention  to  more  than  two 
thousand  cases  in  the  space  of  the  few  hours  at 
their  disposal!" 

This  was  a  revelation  to  me.     I  had  no  idea 


4  SURGEON  GROW 

that  any  of  the  armies  in  the  great  conflict  were 
so  poorly  equipped  with  medical  men. 

"As  you  know,"  the  doctor  went  on,  "I  was  in 
charge  of  the  hospital  at  Kiev.  When  these  poor 
fellows  reached  me  after  journeying  for  perhaps 
three  or  four  days  from  the  front  their  condition 
was  pitiable.  Many  of  them  still  had  on  the  orig- 
inal first  aid  dressings  which  the  orderlies  had 
applied  on  the  battle-field  and  in  a  great  percent- 
age of  the  cases  the  delay  in  administering  proper 
medical  attention  had  resulted  disastrously. 

"Grow,  Russia  needs  doctors  and  needs  them 
badly.  There  is  no  time  to  lose.  We  must  for- 
get all  questions  of  race  or  nationality  and  re- 
member only  that  we  are  doctors  and  are  able 
to  avert  some  of  the  awful  suffering  which  our 
fellow  human-beings  are  compelled  to  endure  for 
the  want  of  the  attention  which  we  can  provide. 
How  about  your  going  over  with  me.  Grow?" 

I  must  confess  that  the  doctor's  eloquence  had 
deeply  impressed  me,  but  not  until  he  put  the  ques- 
tion to  me  flatly  had  I  sensed  its  personal  appli- 
cation. 

"If  you  will  come  with  me,  Grow,  when  I  sail 
two  weeks  from  to-day,"  the  doctor  continued,  no- 
ticing my  hesitation,  "you'll  never  regret  it,  I  can 


I  GO  TO  RUSSIA  5 

assure  you.  I'm  going  on  the  Russian  munition 
ship  Dvinsk  from  New  York,  and  if  you'll  go  with 
me  I'm  quite  sure  you  won't  have  the  slightest 
difficulty  in  obtaining  a  commission  in  the  Rus- 
sian army  medical  service.  You  will  gain  there 
an  experience  in  surgery  in  a  few  months  which 
you  could  not  get  otherwise  in  years  and  years 
of  private  practice. 

"I  don't  know,  but  we  all  feel — all  of  us  who 
are  in  Europe — that  America  is  bound  to  be 
drawn  into  this  great  world  conflict.  If  we  do 
come  In,  the  training  and  experience  which  you 
will  get  in  Russia  will  stand  you  in  good  stead 
when  the  opportunity  comes  to  serve  your  own 
country. 

"Aside  from  that — ^thlnk  of  the  help  you  will 
be  to  suffering  humanity.  The  satisfaction  you 
will  derive  from  that  in  after  years  will  more  than 
repay  you  for  the  time  you  devote  to  this  work. 
Will  you  come?" 

The  surgeon's  eyes  glowed  with  enthusiasm. 
He  was  a  very  different  man  from  the  one  I  had 
known  some  eight  months  before.  It  was  not  so 
much  the  lines  of  care  in  his  face  as  it  was  some- 
thing else  which  I  cannot  describe.  As  it  was,  as 
I  looked  earnestly  into  his  face  I  realized  that  the 


6  SURGEON  GROW 

part  he  had  played  in  the  great  war  had  made 
him  better  and  stronger  than  when  I  had  last  seen 
him. 

I  made  a  sudden  decision.  I  resolved  to  go  to 
Russia.  I  would  throw  up  my  practice,  sail  with 
Dr.  Egbert  two  weeks  hence,  and  try  to  get  a  com- 
mission in  the  Russian  army.  The  doctor's  elo- 
quence had  awakened  in  me  an  inherent  love  of 
adventure,  a  latent  desire  to  see  this  great  world 
tragedy,  and  a  growing  belief  that  the  experience 
which  I  would  gain  in  Russia  would  prove  of  some 
benefit  to  my  own  country  later  on. 

That  was  in  the  latter  part  of  August,  19 15. 
Just  one  month  later,  Dr.  Egbert  and  I  drove 
down  the  Morskaya  in  Petrograd,  swung  round 
the  corner  into  St.  Isaac's  square,  over  whose 
cobblestones  our  droshky  clattered,  and  halted  in 
front  of  our  hotel  opposite  the  great  cathedral. 

This  hotel,  the  Astoria,  was  situated  on  the 
square.  It  was  a  large  brownstone  building,  built 
and  owned  by  a  German  company  but  taken  over 
by  the  Russian  government  after  war  was  de- 
clared. 

We  arrived  about  tea-time  and  the  lobby  was 
filled  with  a  brilliant  throng  of  officers  and  ladies. 
An  orchestra  was  playing,  and  save  for  the  pres- 


I  GO  TO  RUSSIA  7 

ence  of  officers  with  arms  in  slings  and  others  who 
walked  on  crutches,  one  could  scarcely  have  real- 
ized that  it  was  war-time. 

I  shall  always  remember  my  first  dinner  in  the 
Astoria.  Dr.  Egbert  and  myself  were  the  guests 
of  several  Americans  who  were  stopping  there. 
At  one  end  of  the  beautiful  dining-room  of  the 
hotel  was  a  long  counter  upon  which  was  dis- 
played all  manner  of  zachowsky,  caviar,  smoked 
fish  of  every  description,  mushrooms  pickled  in 
vinegar,  shrimp,  crawfish,  etc.  White-garbed  at- 
tendants served  whatever  was  selected,  which  was 
eaten  right  there  or  taken  to  the  table.  Then 
followed  a  typical  Russian  dinner  of  cabbage- 
soup,  trout,  quail,  roast  veal,  various  vegetables, 
artichokes,  dessert  and  tea — a  remarkable  con- 
trast to  the  foodless  banquets  which  have  since 
become  to  prevalent  all  over  the  world. 

It  was  a  brilliant  assemblage.  At  a  small  table 
on  our  right  was  the  Grand  Duke  Michael  with  a 
party  of  friends.  He  was  a  slender  chap,  about 
thirty-six  years  of  age.  His  hair  was  close- 
cropped  and  he  wore  the  uniform  of  a  captain  of 
Hussars.  At  other  tables  were  Cossack  officers 
with  their  picturesque,  many-colored  uniforms, 
silver-handled  sabres  and  daggers,  with  revolvers 


8  SURGEON  GROW 

on  their  hips,  dark  swarthy  faces  and  glowing 
black  eyes,  lending  color  and  atmosphere  to  the 
scene. 

When  a  general,  his  breast  covered  with  crosses 
and  other  decorations,  would  enter  the  room, 
every  officer  of  lower  rank  would  rise  from  his 
table,  click  his  spurs  together  and  bow,  the  gen- 
eral bowing  in  return  and  the  officers  standing 
facing  him  until  he  was  seated. 

The  women  were  superb  in  their  Parisian 
gowns,  and  I  had  never  seen  such  jewels.  A  viva- 
clous  conversation  was  general  and  there  was 
much  laughter.  French  was  spoken  more  than 
Russian. 

This  picture  is  so  vastly  different  from  that 
which  I  saw  some  fourteen  months  later  when  I 
returned  to  Russia  after  a  short  visit  home — dur- 
ing which  time  the  Czar  had  been  deposed — ^that, 
at  the  cost  of  digressing,  I  can't  help  referring  to 
it. 

I  found  that  the  Astoria  had  been  wrecked  by 
the  Revolutionists.  The  dining-room  was  a  sham- 
bles. Officers  no  longer  kept  up  their  appear- 
ance or  bearing  and  the  few  who  dined  in  the 
soiled,  bedraggled  room,  presided  over  by  Inso- 
lent, slovenly  Tartar  waiters,  ate  silently,  with 


I  GO  TO  RUSSIA  9 

gloomy,  hopeless  faces,  brooding  over  the  chaos 
which  surrounded  them  and  addressing  the  waiters 
in  the  most  respectful  tones  lest  they  be  refused 
service. 

But  to  return  to  my  first  visit  to  Petrograd. 
After  dinner,  Dr.  Egbert  met  in  the  lobby  a  young 
officer  acquaintance.  Captain  Dumbrofsky,  who 
spoke  English  and  from,  whom  I  got  the  first  ink- 
ling of  what  was  going  on  in  Russia  as  a  result 
of  German  propaganda. 

Captain  Dumbrofsky's  right  arm  was  bandaged 
and  carried  in  a  sling  and  he  looked  fagged  and 
worn. 

"It  has  been  terrible!"  he  exclaimed.  "We 
have  been  steadily  retreating  for  two  months. 
Our  soldiers  have  fought  magnificently,  holding 
trenches  until  whole  regiments  have  been  simply 
wiped  out  by  the  Nemets'  (German)  long  range 
heavy  artillery.  My  own  regiment  has  been  all 
but  annihilated — all  my  comrades  are  killed  or 
wounded." 

"How  is  it  that  you  have  been  unable  to  hold 
them?"  I  asked. 

"The  trouble  has  been,"  the  Captain  explained, 
a  little  shamefacedly,  "we  have  no  equipment. 
Our  men  have  had  to  fight  with  clubs  and  stones. 


lo  SURGEON  GROW 

Our  field  artillery,  the  guns  of  which  can  fire 
eighteen  shells  per  minute,  were  allowed  for  many 
days  only  three  shells  per  day  for  each  gun!" 

We  asked  him  what  his  personal  plans  were. 

"I  am  only  slightly  wounded,"  he  replied,  "and 
hope  to  return  to  the  front  in  a  few  days.  I  can- 
not stay  here  in  Petrograd  while  my  country  is 
being  invaded." 

He  looked  a  fit  subject  for  a  hospital  and  I  told 
him  I  thought  he  should  not  return  too  soon. 

"Nichevo!  It  is  nothing!"  he  said.  "I  am 
quite  well  and  strong,  and  my  place  is  at  the 
front." 

"They  are  nearly  all  Hke  that,"  Dr.  Egbert 
explained  to  me  as  we  walked  away;  "they  simply 
don't  know  what  quit  means." 

My  subsequent  experiences  fully  confirmed  the 
doctor's  view. 


Russian  troops  on  their  way  south  to  help  in  BrusilofF's  big  drive  talk 

with  wounded  men  returning  from  the  fighting.     This  sanitary  train  was 

equipped  by  the  Dowager  Empress,  and  there  were  very  few  like  it  in 

Russia.     As  a  rule  the  wounded  were  moved  in  ordinary  box  cars. 


Wounded  men  waiting  to  be  loaded  onto  the  cattle  trucks  that  served  as 

evacuation  trains.     They  lay  on  rough  straw  and  often  went  4  or  5  days 

without  medical  attention. 


CHAPTER  II 

TWO  WEEKS  OF  SIGHT-SEEING 

'T^HE  next  morning  we  were  up  early.  One  of 
■^  the  first  things  we  did  was  to  pay  a  visit  to 
Henry,  one  of  our  fellow-passengers  on  the  voy- 
age from  America  to  Russia. 

Henry  was  a  little  mouse-like  man  who  had 
never  been  a  hundred  miles  from  the  small  sea- 
port town  in  New  England  which  was  his  home. 

Henry  had  been  employed  all  his  life  with  a 
shipbuilding  company.  This  company  had  built 
some  submarine-chasers  for  the  Russian  govern- 
ment but  for  some  reason  or  other  they  refused 
to  chase.  The  motors  wouldn't  go  and  the  ves- 
sels were  lying  in  the  Gulf  of  Finland,  near  Kron- 
stadt,  waiting  for  t^e  magic  touch  of  some  one 
from  the  shipbuilding  company,  and  Henry  had 
been  delegated  to  apply  it. 

"There's  something  wrong  with  the  hot-water 
tap  in  my  bathroom,"  complained  Henry,  as  we 

II 


12  SURGEON  GROW 

entered  his  room,  which  was  on  the  floor  below 
ours.  "I've  tinkered  with  the  durned  thing  for 
an  hour  but  I  can't  get  it  to  work." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  get  the  hall  porter  to  fix 
it  for  you?"  suggested  Dr.  Egbert.  "You'll  find 
him  out  there  by  the  elevator." 

Henry  went  out  and  in  a  moment  or  two  re- 
turned with  a  uniformed  man  who,  to  say  the 
least,  seemed  most  reluctant  to  help  Henry  solve 
the  problem  of  the  hot-water  tap.  Indeed,  if 
Henry  had  not  dragged  him  forcibly  by  the  arm, 
he  certainly  wouldn't  have  entered  the  room  at  all. 

"I  want  you  to  fix  the  hot-water  tap,"  Henry 
explained,  holding  the  rebellious  official  with  one 
hand  and  pointing  to  the  bathroom  with  the  other. 

Right  then  it  occurred  to  me  that  something 
was  very  much  amiss.  The  old  gentleman  whom 
Henry  had  dragged  into  his  room  looked  as  if  he 
were  going  to  have  an  apoplectic  fit,  and  a  glance 
I  got  at  Dr.  Egbert  showed  me  that  he  was  almost 
in  as  precarious  a  condition. 

With  an  indignant  snort,  Henry's  prisoner  tore 
himself  from  his  captor's  grasp  and  rushed  from 
the  room  with  Henry  in  pursuit. 

"Great   Scott,   Henr}-!"    shouted   Dr.   Egbert. 


TWO  WEEKS  OF  SIGHTSEEING     13 

"Come  back,  will  you!  That's  not  the  porter; 
that's  an  admiral  of  the  Russian  Na^'yM" 

Henry's  jaw  fell  and  he  almost  collapsed. 

"You've  got  yourself  In  dutch  now,  for  fair," 
Dr.  Egbert  went  on.  "You've  gravely  insulted 
him,  and  the  chances  are  he'll  have  you  thrown 
into  prison." 

"But  I  thought  he  was  the  porter — with  all 
that  gold  braid  and  stuff — and  he  was  standing  at 
the  elevator,  too,"  replied  Henr}-,  whose  face  had 
turned  the  color  of  ashes. 

Just  then  a  dapper  little  fellow  in  the  blue  uni- 
form of  a  naval  lieutenant  knocked  at  the  door 
and,  in  a  very  correct  English,  declared : 

"The  Admiral  demands  an  apolog}^  from  the 
American  who  has  so  gravely  Insulted  him!" 

Henry  being  quite  speechless,  Dr.  Egbert  ex- 
plained the  cause  of  the  supposed  affront  and  of- 
fered Henr}^'s  profuse  apologies  to  the  Admiral. 

The  Lieutenant  clanked  his  heels  together,  sa- 
luted, and  solemnly  withdrew.  After  a  few  mo- 
ments he  returned  with  the  information  that  the 
Admiral  would  accept  the  apologies  of  the  Ameri- 
can— a  message  which  undoubtedly  saved  Henry's 
life,  because  I  fuUy  believe  another  five  minutes 
of  suspense  would  have  killed  him. 


14  SURGEON  GROW 

The  incident  was  an  amusing  one  to  me;  but 
Henry's  mistake  was  really  quite  excusable  be- 
cause of  the  fact  that  in  Russia  every  one  wears 
some  sort  of  uniform,  even  the  school  children, 
and  one  has  to  live  in  Russia  quite  a  while  before 
understanding  the  significance  of  all  the  different 
uniforms  which  are  worn. 

After  breakfast,  Dr  Egbert  suggested  that  we 
go  sight-seeing,  and  I  gladly  acquiesced. 

After  considerable  hagghng  with  an  isvoscheek, 
or  cabman,  in  front  of  the  hotel — a  most  neces- 
sary preliminary — we  piled  into  the  rickety  old 
cab  and  went  clattering  off  over  the  cobblestones 
of  St.  Isaac's  Square. 

These  isvosclieeks  are  droll  looking  fellows, 
with  great  padded  coats  fastened  around  the  waist 
by  a  tight  belt.  The  more  costly  the  equipage 
and  the  finer  the  horse,  the  greater  the  padding, 
and  the  fare  seemed  to  vary  in  direct  ratio  with 
the  amount  of  padding — an  isvoscheek  who 
looked  as  though  he  could  roll  more  easily  than 
walk  charging  two  or  three  times  as  much  as  a 
more  slender  one.  They  were  usually  bearded 
and  wore  quaint  high  hats  and  altogether  they 
presented  a  very  weird  appearance — especially  if 
the  face  and  neck  were  thin  and  scrawny  in  con- 


TWO  WEEKS  OF  SIGHTSEEING     15 

trast  to  the  hugely  padded  body.  Some  were 
mere  boys  of  fourteen  or  fifteen,  but  all  wore  the 
quaint  top  hat,  no  matter  how  battered  or  frayed, 
and  the  huge  padded  coat. 

We  passed  a  long  column  of  men  marching  four 
abreast,  with  an  armed  guard  of  soldiers  escort- 
ing them.  They  were  raw  youths  in  every  con- 
ceivable costume — a  draft  of  new  troops  called 
up  for  training.  They  ambled  and  slouched  along 
carrying  bundles  and  packages,  shuffling  in  their 
heavy  boots — typical  country  bumpkins. 

"How  can  they  ever  make  soldiers  out  of  such 
material?"  I  asked. 

"Well,  there's  the  answer,"  replied  Dr.  Eg- 
bert, pointing  ahead  of  us,  "those  soldiers  you 
see  marching  towards  us  were  an  exact  counter- 
part of  these  fellows  only  a  few  weeks  ago." 

I  looked  in  the  direction  he  Indicated  and  saw 
a  long,  orderly  line  of  soldiers  in  grey-brown 
marching  towards  us  in  perfect  rhythm,  with  the 
free  swing  of  the  Russian  military  step,  their 
heavy  hobnailed  boots  thumping  the  cobblestones 
in  absolute  time.  Fine  erect  soldierly  men  they 
were,  every  slender  bayonetted  rifle  at  the  same 
angle,  every  movement  in  unison. 

We  stopped  a  moment  as  they  passed  us.    The 


i6  SURGEON  GROW 

officer's  voice  could  be  heard  ringing  out  with 
bell-like  clearness,  a  great  church  we  were  passing 
acting  as  a  sounding-board,  as  he  addressed  an 
order  to  his  men,  then  a  metallic  clatter  as  every 
rifle-butt  hit  the  cobblestones  together. 

Our  isvoscheek  took  us  through  the  great  wide 
thoroughfare  called  the  Nevsky  Prospect.  As 
wide  as  it  was,  both  sidewalks  and  road-bed  were 
very  crowded  and  our  isvoscheek  had  constantly 
to  yell  at  unwary  pedestrians  who  got  in  our  way, 
rattling  his  whip  in  the  socket  and  waving  his  arms 
to  urge  the  horse  on. 

The  buildings  were  immense  solid-looking  struc- 
tures, some  of  stone  but  many  of  stucco.  They 
had  been  painted  yellow  or  reddish  brown  but 
most  of  them  were  faded  and  dingy  and  looked 
in  need  of  a  new  coat. 

Most  of  the  men  we  passed  were  in  uniform. 

One  of  the  peculiarities  I  noticed  was  the  fact 
that  practically  every  shop  in  addition  to  a  sign 
giving  the  name  of  the  firm  and  the  commodity 
handled  had  a  picture  of  the  commodity  painted 
on  the  walls — a  baker's  shop  having  loaves  of 
bread,  rolls  and  cakes  painted  above  the  windows, 
a  furniture  store  chairs,  tables,  couches  and  side- 
boards, and  so  on. 


TWO  WEEKS  OF  SIGHTSEEING    17 

This  was  done,  Dr.  Egbert  explained,  because 
seventy  per  cent,  of  the  population  could  not  read 
and  lettered  signs  meant  nothing  to  them.  While 
this  revelation  of  the  proportion  of  illiteracy  in 
Russia  was  appalling,  it  was  rather  consoling  to 
me  to  reflect  that  the  ignorance  of  the  natives 
would  make  shopping  easier  for  me. 

Altogether  I  spent  two  weeks  in  sight-seeing, 
and  very  interesting  weeks  they  were.  I  had  many 
wonderful  drives  through  the  islands.  There 
were  dinners  at  Felician's  on  the  balcony  over- 
looking the  canal  where  boats  carrying  students 
rowing  with  their  sweethearts  in  the  crisp  Octo- 
ber evenings  would  float  by,  the  silence  broken 
by  beautiful  youthful  voices  singing  the  sad  ro- 
mances the  Russian  loves  so  well. 

Meanwhile,  of  course,  I  was  watching  for  an 
opportunity  to  enter  the  Russian  army  medical 
service.  The  fact  that  I  did  not  speak  Russian 
and  had  no  friends  in  the  Russian  army  made  the 
task  extremely  difficult,  but  finally  I  heard, 
through  an  American  acquaintance,  of  a  Russian 
surgeon  who  was  anxious  to  go  away  to  Finland 
for  a  vacation.  He  had  been  working  day  and 
night  since  the  beginning  of  the  war  and  was 
nearly  broken  down  from  the  strain  of  overwork. 


i8  SURGEON  GROW 

Securing  a  letter  of  introduction  from  the 
American,  I  called  on  this  surgeon,  Dr.  Vicker, 
at  his  office. 

Dr.  Vicker  was  a  charming  man,  of  middle  age, 
with  a  scar  from  cheek  bone  to  chin  from  a  sabre 
cut  received  while  a  student  in  Germany. 

He  explained  to  me  that  he  was  chief  surgeon 
to  the  Hussars  Hospital  at  Tsarskoe-Selo,  which 
had  a  hundred  and  fifty  beds,  and  he  was  also 
attending  a  large  private  practice.  He  was  doing 
all  of  the  surgical  work,  having  only  a  woman 
doctor  in  the  hospital,  who  acted  as  anesthetist 
and  resident  physician,  to  help  him.  The  fighting 
was  intense  at  that  time,  October,  19 15,  and  they 
were  crowded  with  work. 

"I  shall  be  very  glad,  Dr.  Grow,"  he  declared, 
after  a  short  interview  in  which  I  told  him  of  my 
professional  experience  in  America,  "to  have  you 
come  with  me  to-morrow  to  Tsarskoe-Selo  and 
help  me  with  several  operations.  I  can  then  judge 
of  your  ability  and  you  will  become  familiar  with 
our  work.  Meet  me,  if  you  will,  at  the  Tsars- 
koe-Selo Station  at  Petrograd  at  seven  o'clock  to- 
morrow morning." 

Delighted  with   the   opportunity  to   do   some 


TWO  WEEKS  OF  SIGHTSEEING     19 

work,  I  thanked  him  for  his  interest  and  prom- 
ised to  be  on  hand  in  time.  Sight-seeing  was  very 
interesting,  but  I  had  left  America  to  work  in 
Russia,  not  to  enjoy  myself,  and  I  was  very  anx- 
ious to  start  in. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  HUSSARS  HOSPITAL  AT  TSARSKOE-SELO 

A  FORTY-FIVE  minute  ride  by  train  from 
Petrograd  brought  us  to  Tsarskoe-Selo — 
which  literally  means  the  village  of  the  Czar.  It 
was  so  called  because  the  Emperor  had  his  favor- 
ite palace  there,  where  he  spent  most  of  his  time 
before  he  became  commander-in-chief  of  the  Rus- 
sian Armies  in  the  field,  when  he  removed  to 
Mogheliv,  where  the  General  Staff  was  located. 

We  engaged  a  droshky  and  drove  to  the  hos- 
pital, passing  some  of  the  beautiful  grounds  sur- 
rounding the  palace. 

The  hospital  was  a  large  white  structure,  used 
In  peace  times  as  the  special  hospital  of  the  Hus- 
sars, a  large  body  of  whom  are  permanently  sta- 
tioned at  Tsarskoe-Selo.  On  the  ground  floor  was 
the  receiving  room  and  two  large  airy  wards  with 
rows  of  white  cots  all  occupied  by  wounded  sol- 
diers. 

On  the  second  floor  was  the  oflScers'  ward,  an 
20 


HOSPITAL  AT  TSARSKOE-SELO     21 

operating  room  and  dressing  room,  baths,  etc.; 
while  the  third  floor  was  divided  into  small  pri- 
vate rooms  for  cases  requiring  isolation  and  quiet, 
and  the  rooms  for  the  resident  doctor  and  several 
resident  nurses. 

All  the  nurses  except  one  were  titled  women 
who,  at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  had  taken  the 
six  months'  training  course  required  to  become  a 
war-sister.  They  had  given  up  everything  else 
and  devoted  themselves  resolutely  to  the  task  In 
hand. 

The  exception  was  a  lady  who  had  been  a  pro- 
fessional nurse  for  many  years,  and  who  acted  as 
assistant  in  operations  and  had  charge  of  the  op- 
erating room. 

I  met  the  head  sister,  Baroness  Maria  Alexan- 
drovna  P ,  a  fine  motherly  woman  of  fifty- 
five,  with  snow-white  hair  and  the  sweetest  face 
imaginable,  and  the  ten  other  sisters,  all  of  whom 
were  either  Baronesses  or  Princesses  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  little  professional  nurse,  who  was 
simply  Sister  Olga  Michaelovna. 

Let  me  digress  for  a  moment  to  explain  Rus- 
sian names.  In  Russia  persons  are  called  by  their 
first  names  and  their  middle  names,  which  latter 
consists  of  the  father's  name  to  which,  In  a  male, 


22  SURGEON  GROW 

ovitch  is  added,  and,  in  a  female,  ovna  is  added. 
Thus  Olga  Michaelovna  signified  Olga,  the  daugh- 
ter of  Michael.  Even  servants  address  their  mas- 
ters by  the  first  two  names,  the  family  name  being 
invariably  omitted.  The  Grand  Duke  Nicholas 
is  spoken  of  by  every  one  as  Nicholi  Nicholiovich. 

All  of  the  sisters  spoke  English  perfectly,  many 
of  them  having  received  their  education  in  Eng- 
land and  all  having  travelled  and  spent  much 
time  there.  This  was  a  great  relief  to  me  and  in 
conjunction  with  the  charming  friendliness  and 
courtesy  with  which  I  was  received  quickly  put  me 
at  my  ease. 

Dr.  Vicker  led  the  way  to  the  wash-room  and 
we  scrubbed  up  and  donned  sterile  gowns. 

Two  operations  were  done :  the  first,  a  brain 
operation  in  which  we  evacuated  and  drained  a 
large  brain  abscess;  the  second,  an  amputation  at 
the  thigh  for  gangrene. 

Dr.  Vicker  was  a  skilful  and  dexterous  surgeon 
and  I  have  never  seen  finer  work  done.  The  sis- 
ters worked  like  veteran  nurses  and  everything  in 
the  operating-room  was  like  clock-work. 

Next  came  the  dressing  of  cases.  They  were 
wheeled  in  on  stretchers  by  orderlies,  and  trans- 
ferred to  an  operating  table,  where  the  bandages 


HOSPITAL  AT  TSARSKOE-SELO     23 

were  removed,  the  wounds  inspected  and  dress- 
ings applied. 

Many  of  these  wounds  were  horribly  infected, 
and  drainage  tubes  and  gauze  drains  had  to  be 
removed  and  fresh  ones  inserted.  I  was  aston- 
ished at  the  fortitude  with  which  these  men  bore 
their  pain.  They  would  grip  the  hand  of  one  of 
the  kindly  nurses  until  the  muscles  in  their  arms 
stood  out  like  knots,  and  the  sister  would  wince 
with  pain  from  the  pressure,  but  never  a  word  of 
complaint  came  from  the  soldier.  When  asked  if 
it  hurt  very  much,  the  soldier  would  smile,  al- 
though pallid  and  damp  with  agony,  and  reply: 
^'Nichevo!"  meaning,  "It  is  nothing!" 

Forty  or  fifty  dressings  were  done  and  then  we 
visited  some  cases  which  did  not  require  dress- 
ings. 

One  of  them  was  a  case  which  had  developed 
tetanus,  or  lockjaw,  the  day  before.  He  had  had 
a  slight  wound  of  the  Instep  from  a  piece  of  high 
explosive  shell.  It  had  nearly  healed  when  the 
dread  symptom  of  lockjaw  developed. 

As  we  entered  the  little  room  in  which  he  was 
isolated,  his  body  was  arched  like  a  bent  bow, 
resting  on  his  heels  and  the  back  of  his  head,  his 
face  drawn  into  a  ghastly  grin,  the  teeth  exposed, 


24  SURGEON  GROW 

the  expression  sardonic.  This  convulsion  lasted 
a  long  time  and  gradually  relaxed  but  not  com- 
pletely. At  the  slightest  noise  or  a  sudden  move- 
ment, the  condition  would  be  repeated. 

"A  terrible  thing  this,"  the  doctor  whispered. 
"We  haven't  enough  serum  to  give  a  prophylactic 
dose  to  all  our  wounded  as  they  do  in  France,  and 
I  have  had  four  cases  in  this  hospital,  all  of  which 
have  died." 

I  inquired  as  to  the  amount  of  anti-tetanic 
serum  they  were  using  in  the  treatment  and  found 
that  it  was  infinitesimal — only  1,500  units — as 
compared  with  the  doses  used  in  America,  and 
was  injected  only  under  the  skin. 

"May  I  try  the  treatment  we  use  in  America — 
large  doses  into  the  spinal  canal  and  veins?"  I 
asked. 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  doctor,  "if  we  can  se- 
cure such  a  large  amount  of  serum,  but  we  are 
allowed  only  a  small  quantity  because  the  supply 
in  Russia  is  so  limited." 

I  was  determined  to  cure  that  man  if  it  were 
possible;  and  after  we  had  returned  to  Petrograd 
I  called  on  one  of  the  Americans  I  knew,  who  was 
travelling  for  one  of  our  large  manufacturing 
chemists. 


HOSPITAL  AT  TSARSKOE-SELO     25 

"How  much  anti-tetanic  serum  have  you, 
Philip?"  I  inquired. 

"About  a  million  units." 

"May  I  have  500,000?  I  want  It  to  save  a 
case  at  the  Hussars  Hospital."  And  I  explained 
to  him  the  facts  of  the  case. 

"Why,  certainly,  Doctor,"  he  replied.  "PU  get 
It  for  you  at  once." 

I  boarded  the  next  train  to  Tsarskoe-Selo,  with 
the  precious  serum  in  my  kit.  I  gave  the  patient 
100,000  units  at  once,  part  into  the  spinal  column 
with  a  long  hollow  needle,  and  the  rest  Into  a 
vein. 

The  head  nurse  was  astonished  at  the  enormous 
dose  and  very  skeptical  as  to  the  results,  but  I 
was  hopeful,  and  was  rewarded  the  next  morning 
by  a  slight  diminution  in  the  severity  and  number 
of  the  convulsions.  I  repeated  the  dose,  and  the 
next  day,  when  with  Dr.  Vicker  I  visited  the  pa- 
tient, his  improvement  was  quite  noticeable. 

A  plump,  rosey-cheeked  little  sister,  the  Prin- 
cess Tatiana  Alexandrovna,  had  taken  this  poor 
fellow,  a  fine  lad  of  about  twenty-five,  as  her  spe- 
cial charge.  She  had  been  tireless  in  her  atten- 
tion, and  as  I  stood  watching  him  I  felt  that  in 
her  I  had  a  staunch  ally  in  the  desperate  fight 


26  SURGEON  GROW 

against  death.  I  wasn't  mistaken.  I  learned  that 
with  infinite  patience  and  gentleness  she  had  man- 
aged to  separate  the  tightly  locked  jaws  from 
time  to  time  to  allow  some  liquid  nourishment  to 
trickle,  drop  by  drop,  down  the  rigid  throat, 
which  the  slightest  disturbance  was  apt  to  throw 
into  convulsions  expelling  the  food. 

We  gave  still  another  100,000  units,  and  that 
evening  I  was  informed  by  telephone  of  appre- 
ciable improvement  in  the  patient's  condition. 

The  next  day  the  dose  was  reduced  to  30,000 
units,  and  later  to  10,000,  which  was  continued 
for  a  week,  by  which  time  he  had  entirely  re- 
covered. 

The  recovery  of  this  man  gave  me  a  prestige 
in  the  hospital  which  no  amount  of  real  hard 
work  at  dressings  and  operating  table  could  have 
done.  To  a  certain  extent,  it  was  what  we  call 
"playing  to  the  grandstand."  On  the  other  hand, 
the  man's  life  was  saved,  and  that,  of  course,  was 
the  important  thing.  But  I  believe,  after  that,  I 
could  have  made  all  manner  of  mistakes  and  still 
retained  the  respect  and  admiration  of  those 
sisters. 

During  the  week  that  the  tetanus  case  was  be- 
ing treated,  I  worked  every  day  with  Dr.  Vicker, 


HOSPITAL  AT  TSARSKOE-SELO     27 

and  he  finally  decided  that  I  had  become  familiar 
enough  with  the  work  to  carry  it  on  alone,  and  he 
left  for  Finland,  leaving  me  in  charge. 

We  had  received  no  new  wounded  since  I  began 
work,  but  on  the  contrary  had  been  discharging 
some  of  the  convalescent  cases  to  be  sent  to  special 
convalescent  hospitals.  The  night  after  Dr.  Vic- 
ker  left,  at  10  p.  M.,  I  received  word  by  telephone 
at  my  hotel  to  come  at  once  to  Tsarskoe-Selo,  as 
new  wounded  were  coming  in. 

Arriving  at  the  hospital  I  found  all  the  sisters 
hard  at  work  cleaning  up  some  forty  soldiers  who 
had  just  arrived.  They  had  been  four  days  in 
the  train  and  many  had  not  had  their  bandages 
changed  since  leaving  the  first  aid  stations  near 
the  firing  line  and  had  been  bumped  around  all 
this  time  lying  on  straw  in  box  cars. 

They  were  naturally  in  a  terrible  condition — 
muddy,  covered  with  vermin,  and  many  badly  in- 
fected. 

Of  the  forty,  five  had  gangrenous  phlegmon  or 
gas  bacillus  infection  so  severe  as  to  require  im- 
mediate amputation,  two  below  the  knee,  two  at 
the  thigh,  and  one  at  the  wrist. 

The  task  of  getting  them  ready  for  operation 
was  a  nasty  one.     They  had  to  be  bathed,  have 


28  SURGEON  GROW 

their  hair  clipped  and  clean  clothes  put  on,  yet 
these  women,  not  one  of  whom  before  the  war 
had  ever  done  a  stroke  of  disagreeable  work  or 
even  had  to  experience  anything  unpleasant,  went 
about  their  tasks  cheerfully  and  smiling,  always 
gentle  and  kind,  caring  for  those  peasant  soldiers 
as  though  they  were  their  very  own  children. 

I  recall  one  old  fellow  who  had  a  very  large 
red  beard.  He  was  a  driver  on  a  soup  kitchen 
and  had  been  hit  on  the  head  by  a  piece  of  shrap- 
nel, producing  a  nasty  scalp  wound.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  clip  his  hair  and  beard  short,  as  they  were 
matted  with  blood  and  dirt.  If  we  had  decided 
to  amputate  his  head  he  could  not  have  put  up 
more  of  a  fight  than  when  he  observed  that  we 
were  about  to  shave  off  his  beard. 

After  Baroness  Maria  Alexandrovna  had  talked 
to  him  for  ten  minutes  as  one  would  talk  to  a 
captious  child,  however,  she  won  him  over,  al- 
though during  the  clipping  process  tears  came  to 
the  poor  chap's  eyes  as  he  witnessed  the  massacre 
of  his  great  flaming  red  beard — the  pride  of  his 
simple  life. 

The  busy  weeks  sped  on  and  I  became  thor- 
oughly engrossed  in  my  work.  At  length.  Dr. 
Vicker  returned.    He  asked  me  to  continue  on  as 


HOSPITAL  AT  TSARSKOE-SELO     29 

his  assistant,  but  I  had  just  heard  of  a  man  who 
had  come  up  from  the  front  looking  for  a  surgeon 
and  I  was  anxious  to  get  into  more  active  service. 
The  man  in  question  was  Col.  Kalpaschnecoff, 
commander  of  the  21st  Flying  Column  attached 
to  the  First  Siberian  Army  Corps.  I  had  never 
heard  of  the  Colonel  before  but  I  had  heard  of 
the  famous  corps  to  which  he  was  attached.  It 
had  been  christened  the  "Ironside  Corps"  because 
of  its  wonderful  achievements  in  this  war.  I  left 
Tsarskoe-Selo  to  offer  myself  to  Col.  Kalpasch- 
necoff. 


CHAPTER  IV 

PREPARING  TO  GO  TO  THE  FRONT 

*  I  ^HROUGH  a  war  correspondent  for  an 
^  American  newspaper  who  was  stopping  at 
the  Astoria,  a  luncheon  was  arranged  at  which  I 
was  presented  to  Col.  Kalpaschnecoff. 

The  Colonel  proved  to  be  a  charming  fellow. 
He  had  formerly  been  an  attache  at  the  Russian 
Embassy  in  Washington,  having  left  the  diplo- 
matic service  at  the  outbreak  of  the  war  and  been 
placed  in  command  of  the  21st  Flying  Column. 

"You'll  find  things  pretty  rough  at  the  front," 
he  said,  in  perfect  English,  his  keen  brown  eyes 
searching  my  face.  "The  work  is  up  in  the  first 
line  trenches  and  things  get  rather  hot  occasion- 
ally.    My  surgeon  was  killed  a  few  weeks  ago." 

I  told  him  I  wanted  to  see  some  action  and  was 
willing  to  take  a  chance,  but  I  was  afraid  that  my 
Ignorance  of  the  Russian  language  would  prevent 
my  getting  a  commission. 

"I  think  we  can  get  around  that  all  right,"  the 
30 


PREPARING  TO  GO  TO  FRONT    31 

Colonel  replied.  "I  have  three  medical  students 
who  will  act  as  your  assistants.  One  of  them 
speaks  English,  Get  a  letter  from  the  Hussars 
Hospital  and  bring  your  medical  college  diploma 
and  we  will  go  to-morrow  to  the  Russian  Red 
Cross  and  get  you  a  commission  in  the  Army 
medical  service." 

It  sounded  very  easy  and  It  looked  as  though 
at  last  my  wish  to  get  to  the  front  was  going  to 
be  realized. 

Colonel  Kalpaschnecoff  was  a  whirlwind.  His 
stay  in  Washington  had  evidently  taught  him 
American  methods.  He  went  to  the  Red  Cross 
and  walked  through  secretaries  and  clerks  as 
though  they  were  wet  paper,  literally  brushing 
them  aside  as  they  tried  to  stop  us  to  inquire  our 
business,  and  before  they  had  recovered  we  were 
in  the  presence  of  the  all-powerful,  and  the  Col- 
onel was  telling  him  that  I  was  the  man  he  wanted 
for  his  surgeon  and  that  no  other  would  do. 

The  chief  was  a  big  burly  fellow,  who  sat  smok- 
ing a  long  fragrant  Russian  cigarette.  He  had  a 
glass  of  tea  at  his  elbow  on  the  desk.  He  asked 
the  Colonel  a  few  questions  as  to  my  ability,  ex- 
perience and  credentials,  and  Kalpaschnecoff 
showed  him  the  excellent  letter  from  the  heads  of 


32  SURGEON  GROW 

the  Tsarskoe-Selo  Hospital,  translated  the  head- 
ing of  my  diploma,  and  the  trick  was  done. 

When  it  came  to  filling  out  the  necessary  blanks, 
I  was  asked  whether  my  middle  name — "Cum- 
mings" — was  my  father's  name.  When  I  told 
them  that  it  was  my  grandfather's  they  decided 
that  I  would  have  to  change  it.  My  father's 
name  was  Alva  and  they  thereupon  rechristened 
me  "Malcolm  Alvaovitch  Grow"  I 

"You  will  receive  the  commission  of  a  captain," 
I  was  informed,  "but  being  a  foreigner  it  is  cus- 
tomary to  raise  the  rank  one  degree  and  you  will 
wear  the  uniform  of  a  put-pulkovneck."  The  lat- 
ter designation  meant  literally  a  lieutenant-colonel, 
which  is  the  next  rank  above  captain,  there  being 
no  major  in  the  Russian  Army. 

I  expressed  my  surprise  to  the  Colonel  at  the 
quickness  with  which  he  had  carried  off  things. 

"It's  a  trick  I  learned  in  America,"  he  replied; 
"simply  rush  them  off  their  feet.  I  told  them  you 
must  have  all  your  papers  in  three  days  as  we 
leave  for  the  front  in  five.  Now  you  must  get 
uniforms  and  equipment.  Here  is  a  list  you  will 
need.  Get  busy  and  I  will  caU  at  the  hotel  in  a 
couple  of  days  and  see  how  you  are  getting  on." 

I  drove  back  to  the  hotel  rather  dazed  by  the 


PREPARING  TO  GO  TO  FRONT    33 

rapidity  with  which  my  destiny  was  rushing  on. 
Here  I  was,  a  peace-loving  American  doctor  step- 
ping into  the  boots  of  a  man  killed  two  weeks  ago 
by  a  German  shell,  thousands  of  miles  from  home 
and  friends,  with  a  commission  in  an  army  of 
strange  folks  with  whom  I  must  remain  through 
unknown  perils  until  such  time  as  I  might  be  "re- 
lieved of  duty  at  the  pleasure  of  the  Army  Com- 
mand or  until  the  end  of  the  war" — so  read  the 
paper  which  I  had  just  signed. 

But  that  was  what  I  had  come  over  for  and  I 
was  determined  to  see  it  through. 

Arriving  at  the  Astoria,  I  found  Dr.  Egbert 
just  back  from  Kiev,  the  American  Red  Cross 
having  withdrawn  all  its  units  from  Europe  be- 
cause of  lack  of  funds  to  maintain  them. 

"You  lucky  dog!"  was  the  greeting  I  got  from 
the  doctor,  when  I  told  him  of  my  good  fortune. 
"I  came  over  hoping  to  have  work  right  at  the 
front  and  they  gave  me  a  Base  Hospital  in  a  city, 
while  you  step  right  into  the  real  thing." 

He  told  me  he  was  going  to  remain  in  Petro- 
grad  a  few  weeks  to  settle  up  some  business  and 
then  he  was  going  back  to  America,  which  made 
me  feel  even  more  strongly  the  loneliness  and  iso- 
lation which  were  soon  to  be  mine. 


34  SURGEON  GROW 

I  had  the  tailor  come  to  the  hotel  and  I  se- 
lected material  for  my  uniform  which  he  said  he 
could  have  made  up  In  three  days. 

Dr.  Egbert  and  I  went  shopping  and  I  pur- 
chased a  huge  curved  sabre,  as  described  on  Kal- 
paschnecoff's  list,  several  pairs  of  high  black 
boots,  and  a  funny  Persian  lamb  cap,  gray  and 
high,  the  regulation  winter  cap  for  officers,  worn 
cocked  over  the  right  ear.  I  also  got  a  pair  of 
nice  jingly  spurs. 

During  the  next  few  days  I  watched  the  officers 
around  the  hotel  rather  closely.  I  had  to  learn 
just  how  to  click  my  heels  together  when  I  sa- 
luted a  superior  or  when  I  shook  hands  with  an 
officer.  The  spurs  produce  a  fine  ringing  sound 
which  Dr.  Egbert  described  as  "singing  with  the 
feet."  It  was  also  necessary  to  learn  not  to  salute 
when  my  hat  was  off — merely  to  bow  and  click 
my  heels. 

The  hotel  lobby  was  a  very  interesting  and  in- 
structive place  to  sit  at  that  period  and  I  spent  a 
great  deal  of  time  there.  By  observation  I  was 
soon  able  to  familiarize  myself  with  the  Insignia 
which  went  with  the  different  ranks  and  the  vari- 
ous branches  of  the  service. 

Several  Americans  dropped  into  my  rooms  for 


PREPARING  TO  GO  TO  FRONT     35 

tea.  Indicating  my  sheepskin  coat  hanging  back 
of  a  curtain,  one  of  them  asked  me  if  I  were 
keeping  a  goat. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Kalpaschnecoff  had  told  me 
that  it  was  frequently  from  fifteen  to  twenty  de- 
grees below  zero  at  the  front  in  mid-winter  and 
it  was  now  the  first  of  December. 

It  was  certainly  getting  cold  here  in  Petrograd. 
Furs  were  being  worn  by  every  one  and  the  short 
period  of  daylight  lasting  only  from  9  A.  M.  to 
3  :30  p.  M.  told  that  the  bleak  cold  gray  days  of 
the  long  Russian  winter  were  upon  us. 

My  uniforms  finally  came  and  I  rigged  myself 
out  and  went  down  to  dinner,  sabre  and  all,  it  be- 
ing necessary  to  wear  the  weapon  in  official  Petro- 
grad although  it  could  be  dispensed  with,  strangely 
enough,  at  the  front.  I  was  grateful  for  the  lat- 
ter regulation,  as  the  sabre  was  constantly  getting 
between  my  legs  and  banging  about  in  a  very  un- 
comfortable manner,  my  entry  into  the  crowded 
cafe  being  a  real  menace  to  myself  and  others  be- 
cause of  its  tripping-up  proclivities. 

After  dinner  I  started  out  to  call  on  some 
friends  to  say  good-bye.  They  had  given  their 
address  on  a  piece  of  paper,  written  in  Russian. 
I  thought  I  remembered  how  my  friend  had  pro- 


36  SURGEON  GROW 

nounced  it  before  he  wrote  it  down  and  I  walked 
boldly  up  to  a  bearded  isvoscheek  in  front  of  the 
hotel  and  said,  "Kee-roosh,  naya,  ad-een-nat-set!" 
and  seated  myself  in  the  cab. 

He  clucked  to  his  horses  and  started  off  and  we 
drove  for  about  an  hour.  Then  he  stopped  and 
asked  me  something  in  Russian,  which,  of  course, 
I  couldn't  answer,  I  handed  him  the  slip  of  paper 
but  he  shook  his  head  and  handed  it  back  to  me., 
He  couldn't  read!  I  shook  my  head  to  indicate 
that  I  too  was  unable  to  read  and  he  started  off 
again  at  a  walk,  turning  on  the  box  from  time  to 
time  to  look  at  his  strange  fare — a  Russian  lieu- 
tenant-colonel who  couldn't  read! 

Finally  he  saw  a  large  policeman  and  drove  up 
to  him,  saying  something  in  Russian  and  pointing 
to  me  with  his  whip.  I  handed  the  paper  to  the 
policeman,  who  glanced  at  it,  said  something  to 
the  cabman  and  then  burst  into  loud  guffaws  in 
which  the  cabman  joined,  both  apparently  over- 
come with  mirth  at  the  thought  of  a  Russian  offi- 
cer of  my  rank  who  couldn't  even  read;  and  when 
later  on,  as  a  result  of  the  policeman's  directions, 
the  cabman  finally  landed  me  at  my  friends'  house 
and  I  dismissed  him,  he  was  still  grinning  and 
chuckling  to  himself. 


PREPARING  TO  GO  TO  FRONT     37 

I  never  understood  why  the  policeman  hadn't 
arrested  me  as  a  suspicious  character. 

The  next  day,  Dr.  Egbert  accompanied  me  to 
the  great,  gloomy  Nicholiavsky  station.  The 
waiting-room  was  filled  with  a  crowd  of  soldiers 
and  officers  with  their  families  and  friends  seeing 
them  off  for  the  front. 

Bearded,  white-aproned  nasielshicks,  or  porters, 
ran  up,  and  hand-baggage  was  piled  into  their 
waiting  arms.  We  procured  a  couple  of  these 
porters  and  were  soon  headed  for  our  train,  fol- 
lowing the  porters,  who  staggered  along  under 
their  seemingly  impossible  loads. 

At  the  train,  we  met  Kalpaschnecoff.  He  had 
managed  to  secure  a  compartment  for  two  on  the 
crowded  second-class  coach.  I  had  my  little  regu- 
lation officer's  trunk,  filled  with  my  effects,  and 
my  folding  cot  and  bedding  roll  with  blankets 
and  pillows,  carried  In  and  piled  In  our  compart- 
ment. 

Then  I  went  out  on  the  platform  where  my 
dear  old  friend  Dr.  Egbert  was  standing.  To  me 
he  represented  the  last  link  with  life  in  America. 

"God  bless  you,  boy!"  he  said,  and  there  were 
tears  in  his  eyes  as  he  said  It.  There  were  tears 
In  mine,  too,  and  I  suppose  there  were  few  on  that 


38  SURGEON  GROW 

platform  whose  eyes  were  dry,  for  It  was  a  train 
running  direct  to  the  front  and  the  passengers 
were  all  soldiers.  How  many  of  us  would  ever 
return? 

As  I  stepped  aboard,  Dr.  Egbert  handed  me  a 
revolver  in  a  soiled  leather  holster. 

"Here,  Grow,"  he  said,  "take  this:  it  is  a  good 
gun.  I  have  had  it  for  a  long  time.  It  will  not 
fail  you.     I  want  you  to  have  it — from  me." 

I  did  not  realize  then  what  a  friend  that  old 
thirty-eight  was  to  prove,  but  it  saved  my  life  one 
blood-stained  day  on  the  Galician  front — but  more 
of  that  later  on. 


CHAPTER  V 

OFF  TO  THE  FRONT 

A  S  we  sat  in  our  little  compartment  in  the  train 
before  retiring,  Col.  Kalpaschnecoff  ex- 
plained to  me  the  working  details  of  the  Column 
to  which  I  was  to  be  attached. 

They  had  thirty-five  horse-drawn  ambulances, 
and  equipment  for  three  first-aid  dressing  stations. 
They  worked  in  the  First  Division  of  the  First 
Siberian  Army  Corps.  Advanced  dressing  sta- 
tions were  established  in  the  trenches,  and  there 
was  a  larger  station  somewhat  farther  back  where 
the  ambulances  could  come  up.  This  station  was 
usually  one-half  to  one  mile  from  the  firing  line. 

The  wounded  were  carried  from  the  advance 
dressing  station  to  the  main  dressing  station  by 
stretcher  bearers  and  from  there  they  were  re- 
moved by  horse  ambulance  to  the  division  hos- 
pital about  four  miles  back. 

The  personnel  consisted  of  i8o  sanitars  or 
orderlies,  three   students,  and  two  aids  to  Kal- 

39 


40  SURGEON  GROW 

paschnecoff.  The  bulk  of  the  reserve  material 
and  the  heavy  transport  wagons,  food,  feed  for 
horses,  etc.,  were  kept  at  a  base  situated  about 
three  or  four  miles  from  the  line. 

"You  will  have  charge  of  the  advance  dressing 
stations  and  the  main  dressing  station  where  op- 
erations can  be  performed,"  declared  the  Colonel, 
"and  two  of  the  students  will  act  as  your  assist- 
ants." 

Sleeping  on  the  train  was  almost  out  of  the 
question,  but  I  suppose  we  did  succeed  in  getting  a 
cat-nap  every  now  and  again  despite  the  poor 
travelling  conditions. 

We  had  breakfast  on  the  train,  but  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  day  we  got  off  at  one  of  the  larger 
stations  for  dinner,  as  there  was  no  provision  on 
the  train  for  regular  meals.  We  rushed  into  the 
first-class  waiting-room  to  the  buffet  where,  at  a 
counter,  one  could  purchase  zachowsky,  similar  to 
our  hors-d'oeuvres,  various  smoked  fish,  or  a  din- 
ner of  cabbage  soup  with  sour  cream,  called  shee, 
or  cutlets  of  chopped  beef  with  fried  potatoes. 
Hastily  selecting  what  we  desired,  we  carried  it  to 
a  table  crowded  with  Russians  and  disposed  of  it 
as  quickly  as  possible. 

The   station   was   packed   with    a    picturesque 


OFF  TO  THE  FRONT  41 

crowd.  There  were  bearded  peasants  in  dirty 
sheepskin  coats  called  shubas,  with  their  feet 
wrapped  in  cloths  over  which  was  fitted  a  basket- 
work  affair  made  from  the  bark  of  trees,  fastened 
to  the  feet  by  strings  which  criss-crossed  up  the 
leg  to  just  below  the  knee,  where  it  was  tied  and 
served  to  hold  the  cloths  in  place.  This  is  the 
usual  footwear  of  the  peasant  class  in  the  summer 
or  when  the  weather  is  dry. 

Some,  more  fortunate,  wore  leather  boots.  Sol- 
diers were  crowded  together,  smoking,  sleeping 
on  the  floor,  or  talking  in  little  groups,  waiting 
for  the  train  to  take  them  back  to  the  front  from 
their  furlough.  Most  of  them  were  great  hulk- 
ing fellows  with  bland,  childlike  faces,  mostly 
blond  types  with  brown-reddish  hair  and  blue  eyes, 
many  wearing  the  orange  and  black  ribbon  and 
little  silver  cross  of  the  Order  of  St.  George, 
which  is  given  only  for  conspicuous  bravery  under 
fire. 

There  were  many  little  family  groups  in  which 
the  women  were  red-eyed  from  weeping  as  a 
father  or  son  or  brother  left  them  to  take  his  place 
in  the  train.  They  were  primitive  and  unashamed 
in  their  grief,  and  as  the  train  pulled  out  from  the 
station  and  the  loved  one  swung  aboard,  their 


42  SURGEON  GROW 

wailing  rose  above  the  grind  of  the  car-wheels 
and  the  shrieking  of  the  locomotive  whistle,  the 
women  with  aprons  covering  their  faces  swaying 
backward  and  forward  in  heart-rending  agony. 

One  little  incident  at  this  station  made  a  deep 
Impression  upon  me.  I  saw  an  old,  blear-eyed 
woman,  dirty  beyond  belief,  bidding  farewell  to 
a  fine  young  fellow  who  was  evidently  her  son — 
more  than  likely  her  only  son.  The  big  fellow 
kissed  her  tenderly.  He  was  a  fine  picture  of  vig- 
orous manhood  as  he  stood  there  with  his  blond 
head  bared  while  the  old  mother  touched  her  fin- 
gers to  his  forehead  and  breast,  making  the  sign 
of  the  cross.  He  stood  on  the  step  as  the  train 
gathered  speed,  while  the  old  woman  ran  stiffly 
along  the  tracks  In  her  heavy  boots,  the  tears 
streaming  down  her  weather-beaten  old  face  call- 
ing out  her  blessing  on  the  departing  soldier-boy 
as  she  ran. 

The  country  near  Petrograd  Is  sparsely  settled. 
Indeed,  that  huge  city  with  Its  sparkling  golden 
domes  reminds  one  of  a  gem  set  down  in  the  midst 
of  a  great  green  table,  for  the  surrounding  coun- 
try Is  a  flat  expanse  of  green  forest. 

Now,  however,  we  were  reaching  a  section 
where  more  villages  were  noticeable.    They  were 


OFF  TO  THE  FRONT  43 

little  gray  groups  of  thatched  houses  built  of  logs, 
huddled  together,  surrounded  by  fields  of  rye  and 
wheat  and  garden  patches.  Beyond  always 
stretched  the  great  dark  pine  forests,  the  white 
trunks  of  the  birches  showing  ghost-like  through 
gloomy  cathedral  aisles  of  pines,  the  sky  steel 
gray  and  sullen.  Over  all  hung  a  peculiar  sad- 
ness, a  sullenness  of  earth  and  sky,  indescribable 
yet  surely  there. 

What  is  it  that  produces  the  mysterious  melan- 
choly of  this  great  country — a  mystery  and  melan- 
choly written  deep  in  the  character  and  in  the 
person  of  all  its  people?  Is  it  the  vast  distances, 
the  flatness  of  the  landscape,  the  lonesomeness  of 
the  Northland,  the  gloom  of  the  forests,  the  long, 
cold  sunless  winters  that  reflect  on  the  peasant  clad 
in  his  sheepskin  coat,  standing  there  in  the  field,  a 
little  lonesome  human  atom  on  the  great  far- 
stretching  expanse  of  field  and  forest  and  swamp? 
I  do  not  know,  but  it  is  there — as  mysterious  and 
yet  as  certain  as  life  itself.  One  feels  it  instinc- 
tively. 

That  night  we  retired  early.  We  were  thor- 
oughly tired  out  from  the  journey,  with  its  long 
halts  at  the  stations  and  the  close,  stuffy  atmos- 
phere of  the  coach. 


44  SURGEON  GROW 

The  Russian  cars,  first-class,  are  fairly  comfort- 
able although  not  very  clean.  The  trains  make 
only  about  twenty  miles  per  hour  on  the  average, 
but  time  is  no  particular  object  in  Russia  and  one 
becomes  accustomed  to  the  slowness  of  travel. 
The  engines  burn  wood  on  most  lines,  huge  piles 
of  the  fuel  racked,  split  and  ready  to  be  thrown 
into  the  tender  as  needed  being  on  hand  at  the 
stations. 

The  next  morning,  at  a  station,  we  had  coffee 
and  bread  and  butter — the  customary  breakfast 
in  Russia.  We  had  time  to  take  a  short  stroll  on 
the  station  platform  before  the  train  pulled  out. 
The  day  was  crisp  with  a  touch  of  autumn  and 
the  sun  was  shining  brightly.  Most  of  the  pas- 
sengers were  out  stretching  their  legs.  I  noticed 
a  number  of  them — soldiers,  officers  and  civilians 
— running  with  tea-kettle  in  hand  to  a  large  boiler, 
and  asked  the  Colonel  what  they  were  doing. 

''That's  just  plain  water,"  he  explained.  "Fire 
is  kept  burning  under  these  water  boilers,  which 
are  called  kipetocks,  day  and  night,  at  all  stations. 
No  unboiled  water  is  drunk  in  Russia.  This  ac- 
counts for  the  small  amount  of  typhoid  in  this 
otherwise  unsanitary  land." 

The  soldiers  filled  their  kettles  and  dashed  back 


OFF  TO  THE  FRONT  45 

to  the  train,  and  as  we  walked  through  some  of 
the  second  and  third  class  cars,  we  saw  them  bring 
out  little  china  teapots,  cans  of  tea,  sugar,  and 
glasses,  and  proceed  to  brew  tea  which  they  drank 
from  the  glasses. 

"Men  always  drink  tea  from  glasses,  women 
from  cups,"  explained  the  Colonel.  "It  is  consid- 
ered effeminate  for  a  man  to  drink  from  a  cup." 

At  first  the  absence  of  ice-water  or  even  cold 
water  was  very  annoying  to  me,  but  I  soon  be- 
came accustomed  to  tea  and  before  I  left  Russia 
I  was  consuming  from  ten  to  fifteen  glasses  of  tea 
a  day  and  never  thought  of  drinking  water. 

The  tracks  near  the  station  were  being  repaired 
and  I  noticed  that  the  work  was  done  by  women. 
They  were  mostly  young  or  middle-aged — all 
great  strong  creatures  with  arms  and  hands  and 
shoulders  like  men,  swinging  a  pick  or  shovel  or 
tamping  bar  without  any  apparent  effort.  Al- 
though they  were  bare-footed,  they  walked  about 
over  the  rough  stone  ballast,  carrying  heavy  ties, 
with  apparent  unconcern!  They  were  supervised 
in  their  labors  by  a  man  who  leaned  indolently 
against  a  telegraph  pole  smoking  a  cigarette.  We 
noticed  many  such  crews  along  the  line. 

Eventually  we  arrived  at  Ceslivano,  a  station 


46  SURGEON  GROW 

about  thirty  miles  from  our  base.  A  large  sector 
of  the  front  is  supplied  from  this  station.  Numer- 
ous sidings  with  cars  laden  with  munitions,  huge 
piles  of  material  under  canvas  covers,  stacks  of 
baled  hay  as  large  as  houses,  and  similar  stores 
marked  it  as  an  important  point.  Wagon-loads 
knee-deep  in  mud  converged  to  the  loading  plat- 
forms, and  hundreds  of  little  two-wheeled  carts 
drawn  by  a  single  horse  were  coming  and  going, 
the  horse's  fetlock  deep  in  sticky  brown  mud,  toil- 
ing slowly  along  over  roads  which  apparently 
meandered  off  through  fields  and  forest — diverg- 
ing like  the  ribs  of  a  fan  over  the  vast  landscape 
towards  the  west,  where  the  trenches  lie. 

We  had  to  transfer  our  baggage  to  a  little  nar- 
row-gauge road  which  ran  to  a  station  a  few  miles 
from  our  base.  A  toy  engine  and  several  flat  cars 
were  standing  there.  Ivan,  Kalpaschnecoff's  or- 
derly or  deenshick,  who  had  met  us  at  the  station, 
carried  our  luggage. 

On  the  way  we  passed  great  rows  of  low  build- 
ings which  looked  like  barracks  but  which  were 
really  an  immense  evacuation  hospital. 

I  was  astonished  at  the  terrible  condition  of 
the  roads.  We  had  to  cross  one  which  was  a 
veritable  sea  of  mud,  up  to  our  knees.    When  we 


OFF  TO  THE  FRONT  47 

reached  the  other  side  I  noticed  an  old  peasant  in 
the  middle  of  a  similar  morass  of  ooze,  trying  to 
get  to  terra  firma.  He  had  a  bundle  in  one  hand 
and  was  holding  up  his  dirty  old  sheepskin  shuba 
in  the  other. 

Apparently  his  boots  were  securely  anchored 
and  he  couldn't  move.  He  let  go  his  coat  and 
attempted  to  pull  his  feet  out  by  lugging  at  his 
boot  straps.  He  tugged  and  tugged  and  finally 
lost  his  balance  and  to  save  himself  plunged  his 
arm  into  the  mud  up  to  the  shoulder.  He  ex- 
tricated his  arm,  righted  himself  and  stood  help- 
lessly holding  the  dripping  member  out  and  star- 
ing at  it  as  though  he  didn't  recognize  it. 

Several  soldiers  saw  the  old  fellow's  sad  plight 
and  waded  out,  forming  a  sort  of  human  chain 
holding  on  to  each  other's  hands.  The  peasant 
reached  out  to  the  one  closest  to  him,  they  gave 
a  heave  and  out  he  came — minus  his  boots !  The 
old  man  had  no  stockings  on  and  he  walked  off 
in  his  bare  feet,  shaking  his  head  disgustedly. 

"This  is  our  muddy  season,"  Kalpaschnecoff 
explained,  rather  unnecessarily.  "In  the  spring 
it  Is  somewhat  worse.  At  these  times,  no  army 
can  conduct  an  offensive  in  Russia  because  sup- 
plies cannot  be  brought  up  quickly  enough." 


48  SURGEON  GROW 

We  boarded  one  of  the  little  flat  cars,  in  com- 
pany with  other  ofiicers,  and  were  presently  chug- 
ging up  hill  and  down  dale  along  hastily  laid  ties, 
little  grading  having  been  done.  Several  times, 
indeed,  the  rails  spread  and  we  ran  off  the  track. 
Then  we  would  all  get  off  and,  by  means  of  crow- 
bars, lift  the  little  cars  back  and  start  off  again. 

I  did  not  know  just  how  close  to  the  front  the 
railroad  ran  and  kept  looking  at  the  clear  blue  sky 
far  away  on  the  horizon  for  the  white  puffs  of 
shrapnel  which  I  had  heard  about;  but  I  saw  noth- 
ing nor  could  I  even  hear  the  sound  of  a  cannon. 

After  numerous  delays,  we  arrived  at  our  sta- 
tion, a  solitary  house  in  the  midst  of  a  great  dark 
forest  of  pines.  Here  we  found  a  dilapidated 
victoria  drawn  by  three  horses  awaiting  us. 

As  Kalpaschnecoff  stood  talking  to  the  orderly 
who  was  in  charge  of  the  victoria,  I  heard  a  sound 
like  distant  thunder  muttering  on  a  hot  afternoon 
in  summer — far  off  in  the  west  over  the  tops  of 
the  dark  pine  trees.  Where  we  stood  all  was 
serene  and  peaceful,  but  that  distant  rumbling  told 
me  of  the  grim  tragedy  that  was  being  enacted 
along  the  far  borders  of  that  dark  forest  down 
whose  dismal  aisles  I  vainly  peered — gloomy,  sun- 
less, mysterious. 


OFF  TO  THE  FRONT  49 

"We  must  be  getting  on,  Grow,"  declared  the 
Colonel,  interrupting  my  reverie;  "It  Is  five  miles 
to  our  base.  Ivan  will  stay  here  with  the  baggage. 
We  will  send  a  wagon  for  It." 

The  Colonel  and  I  climbed  In  the  old  carriage, 
and  off  we  went  down  the  muddy  road,  lurching 
along,  the  horses  straining  at  the  traces. 

As  the  late  autumn  twilight  fell,  we  passed  a 
company  of  sappers  returning  from  a  reserve 
trench-digging  operation.  They  plodded  silently 
by  in  the  gloom,  shovels  and  picks  over  shoulder, 
cigarettes  glowing,  the  pungent  odor  of  Makorka 
— the  cheap  tobacco  from  the  Caucasus  which  the 
Russian  soldier  invariably  smokes — permeating 
the  crisp  night  air. 

We  passed  through  a  little  village.  Close  to 
the  road  were  log-houses  with  projecting  thatched 
eaves  and  small  windows,  through  which,  in  the 
dim  candle  light,  we  could  see  little  groups  of 
soldiers  sitting  around  tables  drinking  tea,  and 
we  could  hear  the  sounds  of  a  concertina  and  a 
man's  voice  singing  In  a  high  sweet  tenor  a 
plaintive  Russian  romance. 

"That's  a  reserve  regiment  in  billet,"  the  Col- 
onel explained. 

We  gradually  ascended  to  higher  ground,  pass- 


so  SURGEON  GROW 

ing  a  column  of  transport  wagons,  the  drivers  of 
which  yelled  at  their  horses  as  they  got  mixed  up 
in  a  bad  spot.  From  the  high  ground  we  got  a 
glimpse  of  black  pine  tops  outlined  against  a  green- 
ish horizon  where  the  sun  had  set,  fading  to  the 
dark  blue  of  the  upper  sky,  a  crescent  moon  ap- 
parently just  balanced  on  the  spire  of  a  distant 
pine-tree,  while  far  off  a  white  rocket  rose  grace- 
fully into  the  air,  hung  poised  a  second,  and  fell 
from  view  behind  the  screening  forest.  It  was  a 
most  impressive  picture. 

"The  positions  are  there,"  said  the  Colonel, 
pointing  in  the  direction  of  the  rocket.  "It  is 
about  eight  miles  away.  You  can  see  the  rockets 
at  intervals  all  night  long.  When  there  is  any 
fighting,  the  trenches  just  spout  them  in  a  steady 
stream." 

Presently  we  entered  another  village  and  drew 
up  before  a  house  of  log  and  thatch  identical  to 
hundreds  I  had  seen. 

"Here  we  are,"  said  the  Colonel,  as  I  followed 
him  to  the  door;  "this  is  our  base." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  SPECTACLE  IN  THE  FROZEN  LAKE 

"fXrE  entered  a  small  room,  the  greater  portion 
of  which  seemed  occupied  by  a  great  stove 
built  of  stone  and  mortar,  a  crude  yet  efficient  af- 
fair, with  a  huge  open  grate  over  which  could  be 
seen  glowing  embers,  and  a  great  oven  above  of 
masonry. 

Seated  in  front  of  the  fire.  In  the  dim  light  of  a 
tallow  candle,  was  a  very  old  peasant  woman,  with 
several  dirty  children  pulling  at  her  dress. 

"This  house  has  been  commandeered,"  the  Col- 
onel explained  to  me.  "We  have  taken  over  the 
other  room  and  the  peasants  occupy  this  one." 

I  looked  around  for  a  bed,  but  the  only  furni- 
ture was  a  chair,  a  rough  table,  a  bench,  and  the 
stove. 

"You're  looking  for  the  bed?"  the  Colonel 
asked,  sensing  my  question.  "That's  on  top  of 
the  stove.  Russian  peasants  always  sleep  that  way 
in  winter."    Sure  enough,  on  top  of  the  masonry 

51 


52  SURGEON  GROW 

oven,  just  under  the  low  ceiling,  was  a  pile  of 
dirty  bedclothes. 

"How  many  live  here?"  I  asked. 

"Four.  This  old  woman,  the  two  children — 
her  grandchildren — and  their  mother." 

We  passed  into  the  next  room.  It  was  larger 
and  lighted  by  a  lamp.  A  rough  pine  table  with 
benches  around  it,  and  two  cots,  with  a  chair  or 
so,  comprised  the  furniture.  A  young  man  arose 
from  the  table,  laying  down  a  book,  as  we  entered. 

"Metia !"  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  addressing 
him,  "I  have  brought  an  American  doctor  to  work 
with  you.     Now  you  can  improve  your  English!" 

Metia  was  a  short,  chubby  fellow,  with  a  round 
smiling  face,  long  black  hair,  greatly  disordered, 
and  honest  brown  eyes,  like  those  of  a  faithful 
dog. 

He  came  over  smiling  and  shook  hands  with 
me. 

"I  take  great  pleasure  to  see  you,"  he  said  with 
a  quaint  accent. 

"Dimitre  Paulovitch  Is  one  of  my  best  stu- 
dents," said  the  Colonel.  "He  was  In  his  third 
year  at  the  Medical  College  at  Saratoff  when  war 
broke  out.    He  has  been  with  me  ever  since.    He 


SPECTACLE  IN  THE  FROZEN  LAKE    53 

will  work  with  you.  We  call  him  Metia  for 
short." 

Metia  then  explained  that  he  was  in  charge  of 
the  base  for  the  present  and  had  been  going  over 
the  medical,  surgical,  and  reserve  supplies — taking 
stock,  as  it  were.  The  Colonel's  aids  were  away 
buying  forage  and  supplies.  The  other  two  stu- 
dents were  in  the  advance  dressing  station. 

"Everything  has  been  rather  quiet,"  he  said. 
"Not  very  much  work.  Just  sitting  in  the  trenches 
— a  little  sniping  and  artillery  'straffing'  every  day 
to  vary  the  monotony." 

He  went  out  to  send  a  wagon  for  our  baggage 
and  to  hurry  up  dinner. 

"A  great  boy  that,"  said  the  Colonel.  "As 
brave  as  a  lion.  He  has  received  the  medal  of 
St.  George  but  he  never  wears  it  except  when  he 
must — when  we  are  inspected  or  at  official  din- 
ners.   You  will  find  him  a  great  help." 

When  Metia  returned  he  said  that  dinner  would 
follow  in  a  few  minutes.  It  consisted  of  a  young 
sucking  pig,  brown  and  crisp,  with  cassia.  Cas- 
sia Is  steamed  whole  buckwheat,  the  outer  husk 
being  removed,  and  is  one  of  the  staples  in  Rus- 
sia, taking  the  place  of  potatoes.  The  soldiers 
receive  it  at  least  once  every  day.     Then  we  had 


54  SURGEON  GROW 

kessll — a  gelatinous  substance  made  from  potato 
flour  and  water  and  the  extract  of  a  red  berry 
resembling  the  cranberry.  It  makes  a  delicious 
dessert. 

After  dinner  our  baggage  came.  Ivan  made 
up  my  cot  beside  the  Colonel's  and  Metla's  and 
we  all  turned  In. 

As  I  lay  there  In  the  darkness,  I  could  hear  the 
occasional  low  rumble  of  artillery,  which  caused 
the  windows  of  the  room  to  rattle. 

The  next  morning  the  Colonel  announced  that 
we  would  have  to  call  on  the  Commander  of  the 
Corps. 

The  old  victoria  was  at  the  door  and  we  drove 
off  toward  the  staff,  which  was  located  In  a  big 
manor  house.  This  house  had  been  deserted  by 
its  owners  when  the  tide  of  battle  had  ebbed  and 
flowed  In  this  section.  A  month  or  two  before, 
the  Germans  had  followed  up  the  Russians  in  their 
retreat  from  Warsaw  right  to  this  very  locality, 
but  later  they  had  fallen  back  to  their  present 
positions  which  they  had  prepared. 

We  passed  two  lakes  around  which  desperate 
hand  to  hand  fighting  had  taken  place  only  a  few 
weeks  previously.  The  fields  and  meadows  near 
the  lakes  were  scarred  by  fresh  lines  of  yellow 


SPECTACLE  IN  THE  FROZEN  LAKE    ss 

earth  marking  hastily  constructed  trenches,  while 
shell-holes  pitted  the  road  on  which  we  were 
travelling. 

The  old  manor  house,  a  huge  white  affair  of 
stone  and  plaster,  was  situated  in  a  beautiful  park. 
For  some  reason  it  had  not  suffered  from  artillery- 
fire. 

As  we  drove  up  to  the  great  door,  two  sentries 
with  fixed  bayonets  came  to  attention.  Inside,  our 
coats  and  hats  were  taken  by  an  orderly.  Another 
led  the  way  up  a  broad  staircase  through  a  bare 
hallway,  the  naked  boards  resounding  under  our 
feet,  to  a  large  room  with  many  windows.  A  log 
fire  was  burning  in  an  open  fireplace  and  the  white 
walls  were  covered  with  many-colored  maps.  A 
telephone  switchboard  and  telegraph  instrument 
on  a  table  at  which  sat  three  operators,  gave  the 
room  a  businesslike  appearance. 

A  tall  officer,  who  had  been  seated  at  a  table  In 
the  center  of  the  room,  rose  as  we  entered  and 
greeted  us. 

Kalpaschnecoff  introduced  us  and  asked  in  Rus- 
sian to  see  the  Commander  of  the  Corps.  The 
officer  sent  an  orderly  for  the  General,  and  in  the 
meantime  the  chief  of  staff,  a  short,  thick-set  man 
of  fifty-five,  resplendent  with  crosses  and  medals, 


56  SURGEON  GROW 

with  a  beetling  forehead  rising  dome-like  to  a 
perfectly  bald  head  and  with  a  hawk-like  nose, 
came  in  and  was  introduced.  He  spoke  a  little 
English  and  welcomed  me  quite  cordially. 

The  door  opened  and  General  Pleschcoff,  com- 
mander of  the  First  Siberian  Army  Corps,  en- 
tered. Kalpaschnecoff  had  telegraphed  him  I  was 
coming  and  as  he  advanced  his  face  was  wreathed 
in  a  smile  and  his  little  black  eyes  twinkled  In  a 
most  friendly  manner. 

He  embraced  Kalpaschnecoff,  kissing  him  on 
both  cheeks  In  real  Russian  fashion,  and  then 
shook  hands  with  me.  He  made  a  cordial  little 
speech  In  Russian,  speaking  no  English,  which  the 
Colonel  translated. 

"Come,  be  seated.  Have  a  cigarette?  Or- 
derly, the  samovar!"  he  ordered,  leading  the  way 
to  a  table  and  offering  his  large  silver  cigarette 
case  covered  with  many  monograms  In  gold. 

He  was  the  most  kindly,  lovable  chap  I  had 
met  in  a  long  time,  and  like  every  one  else,  as  I 
found,  I  soon  grew  to  love  him. 

Sixty-five  years  old,  with  the  physique  of  an 
athlete,  of  middle  height,  stubby  thick  black  hair 
close  cropped,  his  face  seamed  and  lined  by  out- 


German  officers  of  a  regiment  of  Prussian  guards.     The  entire  regiment 
was  captured  by  the  First  Siberian  Army  Corps. 


f^^  '''4 

'i' 

M^ 

L 

A 

Qfl|^^BH|Hi^.  ^       '^^^^^^ 

L          .'     i 

Lw  ■ 

m 

I 

J 

^•v 

k  «^^i^ll^ 

L 

<.:'^^'  '   .«MM! 

1^-           "     •MM*'* 

Battle  flag  of  the  captured  regiment  of  Prussian  guards.     This  was  an 

"iron  cross  regiment,"  decorated  for  bravery  in  action.     Note  the  striped 

ribbon  on  the  right  of  the  flag, — the  ribbon  of  the  iron  cross. 


SPECTACLE  IN  THE  FROZEN  LAKE    57 

door  life,  immaculate,  erect,  vigorous,  he  made  an 
ideal  commander. 

After  the  interview,  on  the  way  back  to  our 
base,  Kalpaschnecoff  told  me  how  brilliantly  the 
General  had  directed  his  Siberians  through  the 
desperate  fighting  before  Warsaw,  at  Lodz,  Pros- 
nitch,  and  in  a  dozen  other  great  battles,  how  he 
had  arrived  at  Warsaw  with  troops  fresh  from 
the  trenches  at  Galicia  and  had  led  them  straight 
from  the  trains  into  the  midst  of  the  conflict,  turn- 
ing the  tide  of  the  second  German  drive  on  War- 
saw, saving  the  city  and  receiving  the  personal 
thanks  of  the  Grand  Duke  Nicholas. 

After  lunch,  Kalpaschnecoff  returned  to  the 
staff  to  transact  some  business,  and  Metia  and  I 
went  out  for  a  walk. 

He  took  me  to  the  trench-scarred  field  between 
the  two  lakes  we  had  passed  that  morning  on  our 
way  to  the  staff.  Close  observation  revealed  how 
desperately  the  opposing  armies  had  battled.  The 
German  trenches,  hastily  dug,  without  barbed 
wire,  had  been  badly  battered  by  the  Russian  artil- 
lery; and  pieces  of  clothing,  German  helmets,  dis- 
carded gas  masks  and  empty  cartridges  littered 
the  field  where  the  fighting  had  occurred  only 
twelve  days  before. 


58  SURGEON  GROW 

We  walked  down  to  the  nearest  lake.  The 
trenches  ran  right  to  its  edge.  The  bank  was 
steep  and  overhanging.  The  last  few  nights  had 
been  cold  and  a  clear  sheet  of  Ice  covered  the  lake. 

Metia  slid  down  the  bank  to  the  water's  edge 
and  tested  the  Ice  gingerly,  for  the  lake  was  very 
deep,  even  close  in  shore. 

I  saw  him  walking  carefully  out,  looking  down 
through  the  Ice,  which  was  like  glass,  and  then 
suddenly  a  piercing  cry  rang  out — a  cry  of  intense 
horror  and  fright. 

I  turned  quickly,  expecting  to  see  Metia  strug- 
gling in  the  water,  but  instead  I  saw  him  standing 
on  the  Ice,  his  head  and  body  slightly  bent  for- 
ward, his  hands  clenched.  He  was  looking  down 
into  the  depths  of  the  lake,  his  face  blanched  and 
an  expression  of  extreme  horror  depicted  on  his 
features. 

What  terror  lurked  beneath  the  surface? 

I  stumbled  down  the  bank,  bringing  down  a 
shower  of  sod  and  earth,  and  walked  quickly  out 
to  where  Metia  stood  transfixed,  not  more  than 
twelve  feet  from  shore. 

^'Mister  Grow,  look!  Look!"  he  cried,  as  I 
reached  his  side. 

I  looked  at  the  spot  he  indicated. 


SPECTACLE  IN  THE  FROZEN  LAKE    59 

Great  God!  What  a  visage  gazed  up  at  me 
from  under  my  feet,  scarce  two  inches  of  crystal 
ice  separating  it  from  the  air!  I  saw  a  face, 
bloated,  with  dull  fishy  eyes  wide  open,  staring 
upward,  the  teeth  exposed  grinning,  the  hands  like 
talons  apparently  trying  to  push  through  the  glass- 
like cover  of  ice.  A  gray  uniform  covered  the 
body,  which  was  that  of  a  German. 

Nearby,  not  six  feet  away,  we  found  a  similar 
horror,  but  this  one  had  on  the  brown  uniform  of 
Russia. 

The  two  hideous  relics  in  juxtaposition  told 
their  own  tragic  story. 

Twelve  days  before,  these  two  had  locked  in 
mortal  combat  on  that  overhanging  bank.  They 
had  stumbled  and  plunged  into  the  deep  icy  water 
of  the  lake.  With  deadly  persistence  they  had 
fought  on,  down  in  the  deep  water,  had  come  up 
struggling  once,  twice,  perhaps  three  or  four  times, 
only  to  disappear  again — at  last,  for  good !  Their 
fingers  had  been  unlocked  from  each  other's 
throats  only  by  the  great  peace-maker — death; 
and  then,  in  course  of  time,  when  nature  had  by 
her  chemistry  of  decomposition  caused  certain 
gases  to  form  in  their  carcasses,  they  had  risen 
from  their  bed  in  the  eel-grass  to  the  surface,  upon 


6o  SURGEON  GROW 

which  a  thin  clear  covering  of  ice  had  formed  in 
the  meantime,  and  there  they  were  with  their  faces 
flattened  against  its  restraining  surface  like  those 
of  children  against  the  glass  of  a  window  in  which 
is  displayed  something  they  yearn  for! 

Metia  quickly  recovered  his  composure  and  we 
started  silently  back  towards  the  village,  and  then 
we  sent  some  of  our  orderlies  out  with  axes  and 
picks  and  shovels  to  release  the  two  bodies  and 
bury  them  on  shore. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  PROFESSOR  OF  MATHEMATICS 

T7ARLY  the  next  morning,  Colonel  Kalpasch- 
■■-^  necoff,  Metia  and  I  started  out  to  visit  the 
advanced  dressing  stations  in  the  trenches. 

We  rode  little  Siberian  ponies  with  Cossack 
saddles.  At  first,  my  saddle — a  wooden  frame 
with  a  high  back  over  which  a  pillow  about  two 
inches  thick  had  been  strapped — felt  rather  un- 
comfortable, but  I  soon  became  accustomed  to  it. 

Our  road  led  through  a  great  expanse  of  fields, 
bare  and  desolate  except  for  a  few  carrion  crows 
— big  fellows  with  gray  wings  and  neck  and  black 
bodies,  which  walked  stiffly  about,  their  feathers 
fluffed  out  against  the  cold. 

We  clattered  through  a  little  village,  the  hoofs 
of  our  ponies  rattling  on  the  frozen  ground. 
There  were  a  few  soldiers  moving  about  in  the 
chill  morning  air,  and  soldiers'  faces  peered  out 
at  us  from  the  windows  of  the  houses.    Then  we 

6i 


62  SURGEON  GROW 

entered  the  great  dark  pine  forest  through  which 
the  road  ran  some  few  miles. 

"This  was  the  hunting  preserve  of  a  very 
wealthy  Polish  count,"  explained  the  Colonel, 
pulling  his  horse  up  beside  mine.  "The  staff  of, 
the  regiment  and  our  main  dressing  station  are  in 
the  big  house  in  which  he  lived,  which  is  only  a 
mile  from  the  trenches.  It  is  fairly  well  screened 
by  the  forest  but  the  Germans  know  its  position 
exactly  and  they  know  we  are  using  it,  but  they 
have  never  shelled  it.  I  have  an  idea  that  they 
Intend  to  advance  soon  and  wish  to  keep  the  house 
intact  to  use  themselves.  Probably  some  old  Ger- 
man general  has  his  eye  on  it  and  is  saving  it  for 
his  own  use." 

After  several  miles  of  forest,  we  came  to  a 
zemlanka  or  dug-out  town.  Here  was  billeted  a 
regiment  in  reserve.  The  trees  were  thinned  and 
sufficient  were  left  to  screen  the  "village"  from 
hostile  aeroplanes.  Little  could  be  seen  above 
ground  except  mounds  of  earth  partly  concealed 
by  pine  boughs,  and  chimneys  of  mud  and  stones 
from  which  smoke  ascended. 

It  was  hard  to  realize  that  in  that  underground 
community  there  were  living  4,500  men. 

"We  have  not  sufficient  villages  to  provide  bil- 


PROFESSOR  OF  MATHEMATICS    63 

lets  for  our  troops  along  the  Russia  front,"  the 
Colonel  remarked,  "but  our  men  are  able  to  take 
care  of  themselves  In  the  way  you  see.  We  just 
turn  them  loose  In  a  forest  like  this,  and  with  picks 
and  shovels  and  axes  they  build  themselves  very 
comfortable  dug-outs  In  a  couple  of  days." 

We  dismounted,  tied  our  horses  to  a  tree,  and 
went  Into  one  of  the  earth  houses.  We  had  to 
descend  some  five  or  six  steps  cut  In  the  earth  and 
then  entered  a  door  made  of  saplings  nailed  to- 
gether.    It  was  rather  dark  inside  but  warm. 

As  we  entered  a  loud  voice  called  sharply: 
^'Smeernaf"  —  "Attention !"  —  and  twenty  men 
stood  erect  In  the  narrow  aisle  between  the  bunks 
on  either  side. 

"Volnar — "At  easel" — ordered  the  Colonel, 
and  the  men  relaxed.  The  Colonel  explained  that 
we  wished  to  see  their  quarters,  and  they  smilingly 
made  way  for  us. 

The  Russian  soldier  always  carries  with  him  a 
roll  of  rye  straw,  about  two  Inches  thick,  six  feet 
long  and  two  and  a  half  wide,  held  together  at 
the  edges  by  cord  woven  Into  the  straw.  This 
produces  a  dry,  comfortable  pallet  which,  when 
unrolled,   can  be   easily  dried,   or  burned  when 


64  SURGEON  GROW 

soiled  and  a  new  one  made,  for  each  man  makes 
his  own. 

These  pallets  were  thrown  on  the  bunks,  which 
were  made  of  saplings  covered  with  pine  boughs. 
The  dug-out  was  heated  by  a  stove  cleverly  con- 
structed of  brick  and  mud.  As  it  was  below  the 
surface  of  the  ground,  the  walls  were  of  earth  but 
the  roof  was  of  closely  laid  poles  covered  by  a 
layer  of  pine  boughs  and  then  a  thick  layer  of 
earth. 

After  inspecting  the  dug-out,  we  remounted  and 
rode  on,  coming  finally  to  a  large  clearing  in  the 
center  of  which  stood  the  great  house  where  the 
regimental  staff  was  quartered. 

As  we  dismounted,  a  battery  nearby  let  go  four 
shots  in  rapid  succession,  followed  by  the  whiz  of 
the  shells  as  they  sped  away  toward  the  German 
lines  a  mile  distant. 

I  had  heard  only  faint  artillery  fire  that  morn- 
ing— just  a  distant  muttering  far  to  the  north — 
and  the  sudden  sharp  bark  of  the  battery  at  close 
quarters — they  were  concealed  in  the  woods  barely 
a  hundred  yards  away — startled  me  and  brought 
home  the  fact  rather  suddenly  that  I  was  getting 
near  the  front. 

We  first  called  on  the  commander  of  the  regi- 


PROFESSOR  OF  MATHEMATICS    65 

ment,  a  short,  bearded  man,  who  was  seated  at  a 
table  in  a  large  room  partly  dismantled  but  con- 
taining a  fine  grand  piano  and  several  large  pieces 
of  old  furniture  which  had  apparently  proven  too 
heavy  to  cart  off  in  a  hurry. 

Colonel  Starik  greeted  me  cordially  and  said  he 
was  glad  I  was  to  work  in  his  regiment. 

We  then  visited  our  main  dressing  station  lo- 
cated in  what  had  been  the  lodge  of  the  game- 
keeper. 

The  student  who  was  to  work  with  me  was  a 
little  chap,  thin,  wearing  thick  spectacles.  He  had 
a  large  generous  smile. 

He  did  not  speak  English  but  requested  Colonel 
Kalpaschnecoff  to  ask  me  to  look  at  a  German  who 
had  been  wounded  in  "No  Man's  Land"  two 
nights  before  and  who  had  been  found  early  that 
morning  by  a  Russian  patrol  lying  half-dead  from 
exposure  and  brought  In. 

We  entered  a  httle  room  and  as  I  opened  the 
door  my  nostrils  were  assailed  by  an  odor  I  knew 
only  too  well — the  unmistakable  sign  of  that  dread 
condition  known  as  gangrenous  emphysema. 

The  wounded  German  was  a  fine-looking  man 
of  about  thirty-six.    His  great  brown  eyes  looked 


66  SURGEON  GROW 

into  mine  with  the  expression  of  a  hunted  animal. 
He  was  pallid  and  weak. 

I  examined  the  wound.  A  rifle  bullet  had  en- 
tered the  thigh  near  the  hip  joint  and  emerged  in 
the  groin.  The  limb  was  badly  discolored  and 
swollen — the  purplish  area  extending  up  into  the 
abdominal  wall.  When  pressed  on,  the  tissues 
gave  forth  a  crackling  sound  caused  by  minute  ac- 
cumulations of  gas  produced  by  the  deadly  bacillus. 

I  turned  to  the  student  and  he,  seeing  my  ex- 
pression, led  me  from  the  room.  I  told  him, 
through  Metia,  that  the  condition  had  extended 
too  high  in  the  abdomen  for  amputation.  All  we 
could  do  was  to  incise  the  tissues  with  long  free 
incisions,  drain  off  the  horrid  brown  discharge  and 
gas,  and  apply  a  moist  dressing  of  hydrogen  perox- 
ide, which  was  the  treatment  then  in  use  in  France. 

"There  isn't  a  chance  for  him,  however,"  I  told 
Metia,  "and  you  had  better  talk  to  him  and  find 
out  where  he  lived,  who  he  is,  and  whether  we  can 
do  anything  for  him.  He  looks  very  refined — too 
Intelligent  for  a  private," 

Metia  spoke  German  well  and  questioned  the 
German. 

In  a  faint  voice,  he  told  us  that  he  was  German 
■professor  of  mathematics  in  a  little  college  town 


PROFESSOR  OF  MATHEMATICS    67, 

in  Germany,  was  married  and  had  three  children. 
He  had  been  drafted  as  a  private  and  was  about 
to  be  made  a  sergeant  when  he  was  wounded. 

"I  was  ordered  by  my  commanding  officer  the 
other  night,"  he  said,  "to  crawl  out  between  the 
lines  and  approach  the  Russian  trenches  as  closely 
as  possible,  where  I  was  to  listen  for  a  suspected 
digging  party  which  he  feared  were  running  out 
a  sap  to  lay  a  mine  under  our  trenches. 

"I  crawled  up  close  to  the  Russian  barbed  wire, 
and  lay  there  listening.  Just  after  a  rocket  had 
flared  up  from  your  trenches,  several  shots  were 
fired  and  I  felt  a  sharp  burning  pain  in  my  hip. 
I  tried  to  move  my  leg  but  I  couldn't. 

"I  was  bleeding  badly  and  lay  a  long  time  wait- 
ing for  death.  I  don't  know  how  long.  Finally 
the  pain  became  worse  and  by  a  frantic  effort  I 
managed  to  crawl  a  few  yards  back  toward  our 
lines.  My  leg  dragged  on  the  ground  and  I 
crawled  with  my  arms  alone,  a  few  feet  at  a  time. 
It  began  to  grow  light  in  the  east.  I  was  so  cold, 
so  tired,  in  so  much  agony,  that  when  I  came  to  a 
shell-hole  I  crawled  into  it  and  fainted  away.  I 
regained  consciousness  several  times  that  day  and 
the  next  night,  then  I  knew  nothing  until  I  woke 
up  here.     Do  you  think  I  will  get  well?     I  want 


68  SURGEON  GROW 

to  write  to  my  wife.  Can  a  letter  be  sent  from 
here?" 

All  this  Metia  got  from  him  by  patient  ques- 
tioning, as  he  was  too  weak  to  talk  much  at  a  time. 

Metia  promised  to  write  a  letter  at  his  dicta- 
tion after  he  had  been  fixed  up  a  little  by  the 
American  doctor  he  had  just  seen. 

He  consented  to  the  treatment  I  had  suggested, 
so  we  got  things  ready,  gave  him  some  ether  and 
operated. 

He  reacted  fairly  well  and  that  evening  was 
able  to  dictate  a  pathetic  letter  to  his  wife  and 
little  ones.  He  told  them  that  he  would  be  well 
soon  and  that  while  he  would  be  in  prison  in  Rus- 
sia he  did  not  mind  that,  as  the  Russians  were 
good  and  kind  to  him.  He  would  not  be  killed  in 
battle  anyway,  and  was  sure  to  see  them  again 
after  the  war,  which  could  not  last  much  longer. 
He  added  that  he  felt  sure  of  recovering  because 
of  the  skill  of  an  American  surgeon  who  was  at- 
tending him. 

The  poor  fellow  lived  two  days.  We  kept  him 
fairly  comfortable  with  morphine,  but  the  infec- 
tion was  too  virulent  and  he  succumbed.  They 
buried  him  in  the  little  cemetery,  under  the  dark 
pines,  a  Russian  priest  officiating.     All  the  staff 


PROFESSOR  OF  MATHEMATICS     69 

attended  and  we  stood  with  heads  bared,  while 
the  cold  wind  sighed  through  the  branches  of  the 
trees.  A  cross  of  wood  with  his  name  and  regi- 
ment inscribed  on  it  was  placed  at  his  grave,  where 
he  sleeps  in  company  with  others  who  were  once 
his  foes.  Metia  wrote  a  second  letter  to  the  wife 
in  the  little  town  in  Germany. 

The  kindness  which  the  Russian  officers  showed 
to  this  German  during  his  last  few  days  is  worth 
recording  because  it  is  typical  of  the  conduct  of 
the  Russian  military  throughout  this  whole  war — 
at  least  for  all  I  was  ever  able  to  observe  to  the 
contrary.  The  colonel  commanding  the  regiment 
came  to  see  the  wounded  German  twice  a  day  to 
inquire  if  there  was  anything  he  wished,  and  many 
other  officers  would  make  similar  visits  every  day. 

But  to  return  to  my  visit  to  the  regimental  stafF. 
The  operation  had  kept  me  busy  all  the  afternoon 
and  we  did  not  have  time  that  day  to  go  to  the 
trenches  where  the  two  advanced  dressing  stations 
were. 

After  dinner  at  the  staff,  an  old  artillery  offi- 
cer, a  colonel,  long  in  the  service,  sat  down  at  the 
piano  and  played  some  wonderful  music,  while  the 
rest  of  us  sat  about  smoking. 

Occasionally  the  windows  would  rattle  and  the 


70  SURGEON  GROW 

old  house  vibrate  as  a  battery  nearby  would  send 
an  evening  message  to  the  Germans,  but  the  sound 
was  more  or  less  muffled  by  the  thick  walls. 

It  was  difficult  to  realize  that  within  a  mile  lay 
the  trenches  filled  with  men  striving  to  kill  each 
other  while  we  sat  there  listening  to  the  sweet 
music  of  Mendelssohn  and  Rubinstein. 

Before  retiring  I  walked  out  in  front  of  the 
house.  It  was  dark  and  still — not  a  breath  of  air 
stirring.  Myriads  of  stars  were  sparkling  coldly 
in  the  velvet  pall  of  the  heavens.  Over  the  black 
tops  of  the  pine  forests,  far  away,  toward  the 
trenches,  the  sky  suddenly  lighted  up  with  a 
ghostly  quivering  white  glare  as  a  trench  rocket 
split  the  darkness,  flickered  a  moment,  and  was 
gone.  Then  came  the  crackle  of  rifle  shots,  faint 
and  far  off,  and  then  silence  again. 

I  stood  listening  and  watching  for  more  rockets 
but  none  appeared  and  I  turned  to  go  in  when 
suddenly  the  air  was  filled  with  a  horrid  screech- 
ing sound.  Nearer  and  nearer  it  came  from  the 
black  sky  overhead,  over  the  pines,  increasing  in 
intensity  as  it  approached  and  its  pitch  growing 
shriller.  I  instinctively  crouched,  my  muscles 
tense,  my  teeth  clenched,  waiting  I  knew  not  for 
what.     Whatever  it  was  seemed  to  be  about  to 


PROFESSOR  OF  MATHEMATICS    71^ 

land  at  my  feet.  Then  came  a  red  angry  flash, 
followed  by  a  terrific  explosion,  in  the  forest  a 
hundred  yards  to  my  right,  and  a  humming  in  the 
air  like  the  sound  a  large  nail  used  to  make  when 
I  had  thrown  it  as  a  child,  and  then  the  sound  of 
falling  fragments  of  earth  and  metal.  A  horse 
screamed  over  where  the  thing  had  burst. 

Kalpaschnecoff  had  strolled  calmly  out  to  where 
I  stood,  his  cigarette  glowing  in  the  darkness. 

"The  Boches  are  straffing  our  battery  a  bit," 
he  said.    "Here  comes  another!" 

Sure  enough  I  could  hear  the  same  screaming 
sound  as  the  big  shell  described  its  trajectory,  then 
another  flash  and  roar  in  the  trees  and  the  hum- 
ming of  steel  fragments  in  the  air. 

This  time  I  did  not  mind  it  so  much.  With  the 
Colonel  by  my  side,  it  was  not  so  lonely,  and  I  had 
a  warning  of  what  was  coming. 

"Will  our  battery  answer?"  I  asked. 

"Not  now;  they  are  sitting  down  snugly  In  their 
bomb-proofs.  What  would  be  the  use  of  their 
exposing  themselves?  You  say  you  heard  a  horse 
scream?  Likely  they  are  bringing  up  ammunition 
and  one  of  the  cannon  team  was  hit.  They  have 
cut  him  loose  and  driven  off  by  this  time,  though, 
and  the  Germans  won't  catch  another." 


72  SURGEON  GROW 

The  Boches  fired  only  those  two  shots.  Evi- 
dently they  had  hoped  to  catch  some  one  above 
ground  or  a  supply  column  at  work  unloading 
shells,  and  the  next  morning  we  learned  that  the 
Colonel  had  been  correct  In  his  surmise — one  of 
the  lead  horses  of  a  caisson  which  was  unloading 
shells  had  been  hit  by  a  fragment  and  died  In  a 
few  moments,  but  the  soldiers  had  hastily  cut  the 
traces  and  driven  off  before  the  second  shell  had 
landed. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN  THE  RUSSIAN  TRENCHES 

'T^HAT  night  we  slept  on   the  floor  in  one  of 
the  rooms  of  the  manor  house,  rolled  up  in 
blankets  borrowed  from  officers  of  the  staff,  in 
front  of  a  great  log  fire. 

The  next  morning  a  soldier  came  and  inquired 
for  me.  He  was  shown  in  and  said  he  had  been 
sent  to  me  by  the  commander  of  the  8th  Regiment 
by  order  of  General  Pleschcoff.  He  was  to  be  my 
orderly,  having  been  picked  out  of  50,000  men  in 
the  corps  because  he  spoke  English.  He  had  lived 
two  years  in  America,  where  he  had  worked  in  a 
Pittsburgh  machine-shop.  He  had  earned  enough 
to  return  home,  some  six  years  before  the  war, 
and  buy  a  little  farm  in  the  province  of  Omsk, 
eight  hundred  miles  north  of  the  Trans-Siberian 
Railroad.  He  was  married  and  had  two  children. 
When  war  broke  out  he  had  been  called  to  the 
colors,  being  a  reservist,  thirty-six  years  old.    He 

73 


74  SURGEON  GROW 

had  been  In  the  war  since  September,  19 14,  and 
had  not  been  home  in  the  meantime. 

Mike  remained  my  orderly  until  I  left  the  army 
and  I  grew  greatly  attached  to  him.  Of  the  great 
service  he  rendered  me  at  the  risk  of  his  own  life 
I  shall  write  later. 

We  started  off  for  the  trenches,  riding  part  of 
the  way,  for  the  road  was  well  screened  by  the 
forest. 

We  passed  the  battery  which  had  been  fired  on 
the  previous  evening  and  stopped  a  moment  to 
look  at  the  two  big  shell-holes.  They  were  from 
twelve  to  fifteen  feet  across  and  about  four  feet 
deep.  A  soldier  of  the  battery  was  cutting  some 
kindling  wood  with  his  kinjal  or  curved  dagger, 
which  all  the  artillery  men  carry — a  hea\7-  knife 
v/ith  a  wicked  curved  blade  about  two  feet  long. 
The  trees  round  about  were  torn  and  splintered, 
one,  about  ten  inches  in  diameter,  having  been 
completely  severed  by  a  jagged  cut. 

A  few  yards  of!,  lying  on  its  side,  Its  feet  stick- 
ing up  stiffly  In  the  air,  was  a  dead  horse.  I  don't 
know  why,  but  horses  always  seem  to  lie  that  way 
when  killed.  The  soldier  came  over  when  he  saw 
us  looking  at  the  horse  and  explained  that  it  had 


IN  THE  RUSSIAN  TRENCHES      75 

been  killed  by  the  first  shell  of  the  night  before 
but  that  none  of  the  men  were  hurt. 

The  guns  of  the  battery  were  cleverly  concealed 
in  pits  with  a  roof  of  saplings  and  sod  covered 
with  pine  boughs.  The  shells  were  stored  be- 
tween each  gun  in  very  deep  bomb-proof  shelters 
with  great  logs  in  the  roof.  There  were  appar- 
ently about  six  layers  of  logs  and  dirt.  Eighteen 
steps  led  down  to  the  entrance  of  these  little  store- 
houses. 

In  back  of  the  guns  was  a  deep  trench  leading 
to  some  strongly  built  bomb-proof  shelters  where 
the  men  and  officers  lived.  By  means  of  this 
trench,  they  could  approach  the  guns  when  being 
shelled  without  getting  hurt.  In  back  of  the 
trench  was  the  fire  control,  a  heavy  bomb-proof 
affair,  with  a  telephone  connecting  with  the  ob- 
servation point  far  out  in  the  advanced  trenches  in 
a  particularly  high  spot  or  even  in  a  tree  top. 
Here  the  observing  officer  sits  and  watches  the 
shells  hit,  makes  the  necessary  corrections  on  the 
range  and  telephones  back  to  the  battery  fire  con- 
trol each  time  he  desires  it  changed.  The  gunners 
scarcely  ever  see  their  objective  or  even  the  ex- 
plosion of  their  shells.     These  particular  guns 


76  SURGEON  GROW 

were  firing  over  a  forest  at  least  three-quarters  of 
a  mile  wide. 

"We  are  just  beginning  to  get  shells,"  remarked 
the  Colonel.  "Those  villainous  traitors  in  Petro- 
grad,  bought  by  the  Germans,  had  the  factory  near 
Moscow  working  for  nearly  six  months  on  shells 
just  a  little  too  large  to  go  into  our  guns.  The  blue- 
print patterns  were  a  fraction  of  a  millimeter  off 
— just  enough  to  make  the  shells  useless.  I  refer 
to  the  Ministers  of  War  and  Munitions  and  their 
hirelings — especially  that  dastard  Sukhomlinoff !" 

"Ah!  Russia  Russia!  poor  Russia!"  sighed 
Metia.  "Here  we  had  those  fine  little  guns,  so 
quick,  twenty  shots  a  minute,  and  no  shells !  and 
the  German  artillery — oh!"  and  he  waved  his 
arms  and  rolled  his  eyes,  unable  to  express  his  dis- 
gust. 

We  remounted  and  rode  on  for  half  a  mile 
through  beautiful  pines  to  a  bend  in  the  road 
where  we  dismounted,  tied  our  horses  to  trees, 
and  proceeded  on  foot. 

The  occasional  crack  of  a  rifle  rang  out  in  the 
crisp  air,  only  now  and  then,  not  often.  It  re- 
minded me  of  the  first  day  of  the  deer  season  in 
the  northwoods  at  home — the  cold,  clear  air,  the 


IN  THE  RUSSIAN  TRENCHES      77 

odor  of  pines,  and  the  occasional  echoing  reports, 
some  far  off,  some  near. 

The  trees  were  thinning  now  and  the  light  of 
an  open  space  shone  through  ahead. 

We  entered  an  approach  trench,  which  extended 
forward  in  a  zigzag.  It  was  not  very  deep  and 
the  Colonel  said:  "Keep  your  head  down  at  the 
turns  or  you  may  be  seen  by  a  sniper!" 

We  paused  for  a  moment  at  a  support  trench 
built  about  300  feet  back  of  the  first  line  trench. 
Rows  of  barbed-wire^  criss-crossed  from  poles 
about  four  feet  high  driven  in  the  ground,  were  in 
front  of  it. 

"Here  Is  our  dressing-station,"  announced  the 
Colonel,  as  he  led  the  way  to  the  entrance  of  a 
dug-out  built  in  the  wall  of  the  trench. 

We  descended  some  eight  or  ten  steps.  The 
roof  was  of  logs  and  dirt.  The  door  was  a  reg- 
ular door  evidently  taken  off  some  partly  de- 
stroyed house.  Inside  it  was  dark  at  first,  but  as 
my  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  gloom,  I  saw 
I  was  in  a  little  room  about  eight  feet  wide  by 
fifteen  feet  long.  A  small  stove  of  brick  and  stone 
occupied  one  end.  At  the  other  was  a  crude  table 
on  which  were  bandages  and  instruments  cov- 
ered by  a  white  cloth.    A  stretcher  served  as  an 


78  SURGEON  GROW 

operating  table,  resting  on  four  stakes  driven  in 
the  earth  floor,  a  candle  stuck  in  the  neck  of  a 
bottle  serving  for  light.  There  were  several 
benches,  and  near  the  stove  a  cot  from  which 
rose  a  very  dishevelled  youth. 

Kalpaschnecoff  introduced  him  as  Nicholi  Alex- 
androvitch.  He  was  one  of  the  students.  He  was 
a  tall,  gangling  fellow,  with  a  large  head,  slightly 
stooping  shoulders,  and  a  lean  neck  which  did  not 
seem  strong  enough  to  support  the  massive 
cranium. 

"Skuchna  esdes — It  Is  tiresome  here,"  he  said. 
"No  work — only  three  wounded  yesterday.  We 
have  another  station  like  this  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
to  the  right.  You  will  visit  both  every  day  and 
also  the  main  station  back  at  the  big  house.  I 
will  have  your  stuff  sent  out  to-day  from  the  base. 
You  can  live  here  or  at  the  main  station,  as  you 
wish.     It  is  more  comfortable  back  there,  how- 


ever." 


"Thanks,"  I  replied;  "I  will  have  my  things 
brought  here.  There  is  room  for  another  cot 
and  I  want  to  learn  this  trench-life  and  live  it  also, 
and,  if  you  don't  mind,  I'll  stay  right  here." 

"As  you  wish,"  said  the  Colonel. 


IN  THE  RUSSIAN  TRENCHES      79 

"Meester  is  not  afraid  of  the  German  granata 
(shells),"  said  Metia. 

"Yes,  I  am;  very  much  afraid,"  I  admitted. 
^'That's  why  I'm  staying.  I  want  to  get  used  to 
them." 

We  all  walked  down  the  approach-trench  to  the 
iire-trench. 

"Keep  very  quiet  here,"  warned  the  Colonel. 
"The  German  trenches  are  only  seventy-five 
meters  distant  and  they  always  listen  for  any  noise 
or  movement  in  our  trenches.  If  they  hear  any- 
thing they  send  over  a  grenade  from  a  trench 
mortar  or  some  shells  from  the  artillery,  hoping 
to  catch  some  one  exposed." 

Speef  A  ricochet  sang  over  our  heads  and  I 
ducked  as  it  passed  by.  It  had  such  a  nasty  sound 
I  could  not  help  dodging,  and  I  felt  like  a  fool 
afterwards,  resolving  not  to  move  a  muscle  the 
next  time. 

Bang!  crashed  a  rifle,  right  at  my  elbow  around 
the  corner  of  the  parapet  as  we  slipped  into  a  fire 
trench.  Again  I  ducked  involuntarily,  and  re- 
solved again  to  control  my  jerky  nerves. 

As  I  walked  on  I  felt  uncomfortably  tall  and 
was  sure  the  top  of  my  head  was  above  the  trench. 
I  was  surprised  at  the  small  number  of  men  on 


8o  SURGEON  GROW 

duty — just  one  to  each  sector.  The  trenches  are 
not  dug  in  a  straight  line  but  are  Hke  the  design 
we  used  to  call  the  "walls  of  Troy,"  the  inter- 
posed squares  of  earth  limiting  the  explosive  and 
killing  effects  of  a  shell  to  the  particular  section 
in  which  it  falls.  If  the  trenches  were  straight, 
a  direct  hit — that  is,  a  shell  falling  in  the  trench 
— would  kill  and  wound  men  a  hundred  yards  up 
and  down  the  trench.  There  were  about  eight 
loopholes  to  each  sector  of  the  fire-trench,  then  a 
square-cut  elbow  around  a  solid  block  of  earth 
about  eight  feet  across,  called  a  traverse,  then, 
another  loopholed  sector,  and  so  on. 

The  Russian  trenches  have  a  head  cover  of 
timber  and  dirt  as  protection  against  shrapnel. 
They  don't  use  many  sand-bags  for  loophoHng 
but  make  a  pyramidal  shaped  box  of  wood  about 
three  feet  long,  open  at  both  ends,  with  a  6-inch 
square  opening  at  the  srnall  end  and  a  2^  feet 
by  6-inch  opening  at  the  large  end.  This  is  laid 
on  the  earth,  large  end  toward  the  trench,  and 
then  it  is  covered  with  dirt  and  the  head  cover 
constructed.  This  gives  a  loophole  with  plenty 
of  elbow-room  to  move  a  rifle  about,  a  good  place 
to  rest  it  on,  and  a  6-inch  opening  at  the  far  end 
to  stick  the  end  of  the  gun  through.     A  fire-step 


IN  THE  RUSSIAN  TRENCHES      81 

Is  made  on  the  side  of  the  trench  on  which  the 
soldier  stands  while  firing  and  which  brings  his 
face  level  with  the  loophole. 

You  feel  quite  lonely  and  isolated  when  in  one 
of  these  little  sectors  of  fire-trench.  This  day 
there  was  only  one  soldier  to  a  sector  although 
not  eighty  yards  away  was  an  enemy  anxious  to 
attack.  It  seemed  as  If  all  they  had  to  do  was  to 
walk  over  and  take  us  all  prisoners. 

Then  I  noticed  the  funk-holes,  as  they  are 
called  on  the  English  front.  They  are  small  ex- 
cavated rooms  In  the  side  of  the  trench,  In  each 
of  which  were  crowded  eight  or  ten  soldiers  lying 
about,  sleeping,  smoking,  or  talking  In  low  tones. 
In  many,  through  the  open  passage-way  could  be 
seen  charcoal  braziers  filled  with  glowing  embers 
— the  braziers  consisting  of  buckets,  powder-cans 
or  large  meat  tins  in  which  holes  had  been 
punched. 

We  stopped  at  one  of  the  empty  loopholes  and 
peered  out  over  the  barbed  wire  across  No  Man's 
Land  toward  the  German  trenches.  All  I  could 
see  of  the  German  positions  was  a  haze  of  tan- 
gled wire  and  crooked  stakes  and  a  ridge  of  earth 
which  was  sod-covered  In  some  places  and  bare 
in  others.     Although  the  German  trenches  were 


82  SURGEON  GROW 

only  about  seventy-five  yards  away,  no  loopholes 
could  be  seen  and  there  was  not  a  sign  of  life 
nor  a  moving  thing.  It  looked  for  all  the  world 
like  a  field  in  which  great  ground  moles  had  been 
digging  and  tunneling  and,  growing  tired  of  their 
labors,  had  wandered  off. 

The  opposing  lines  faced  each  other  across  a 
shallow  ravine,  ours  right  on  the  edge  of  the  forest. 
The  Germans  had  about  three  hundred  yards  of 
open  field  in  back  of  their  first  line,  then  a  dense 
forest — black  and  mysterious. 

The  striking  thing  to  me  was  the  entire  absence 
of  anything  to  shoot  at,  and  yet  snipers  were  con- 
stantly at  work  in  our  trenches  and  every  minute 
or  two  a  shot  would  ring  out.  The  Germans  were 
equally  active  and  the  crack  of  their  bullets  as 
they  landed  in  the  trees  and  the  spee  of  their 
ricochets  were  frequently  heard.  The  trees  were 
simply  torn  to  pieces  by  shells  and  bullets  and 
presented  a  very  bedraggled  and  skeleton-like  ap- 
pearance. 

Kalpaschnecoff  walked  up  to  a  little  soldier  who 
was  gazing  intently  out  of  his  loophole,  firing 
away  at  something  every  couple  of  minutes.  Scat- 
tered about  his  feet  was  a  considerable  pile  of 
empty  brass  cartridges. 


IN  THE  RUSSIAN  TRENCHES      83 

"Well,  Galoopchick  (little  dove)" — they  al- 
ways call  the  soldiers  and  peasants  that — "Galoop- 
chick, what  are  you  firing  at?" 

"Your  Excellency,  I  have  been  at  this  loophole 
several  hours  every  day  for  eight  days,"  the  little 
dove,  who  was  certainly  a  very  much  soiled  little 
dove,  his  face  blackened  from  the  smoke  and  coal 
of  a  brazier,  replied.  "Every  few  minutes,  all  the 
time  I  am  here,  a  German  over  there  waves  a 
white  flag.  I  shoot  every  time  he  waves  that  flag 
and  still  he  waves  it.  Look  now!  Your  Excel- 
lency will  see  it  there — right  along  the  top  of  my 
rifle  barrel.  I  have  pointed  it  right  at  the  white 
flag!" 

Kalpaschnecoff  looked,  squinting  along  the  bar- 
rel of  the  rifle.  Then  he  pulled  out  a  pair  of  field 
binoculars  and  gazed  long  and  hard.  Finally  he 
turned  to  me  and  handed  me  the  glasses.  I  looked, 
and  sure  enough  something  white  was  moving;  It 
moved  to  and  fro  for  a  minute  and  then  stopped. 

"Looks  to  me  like  a  piece  of  old  paper  partly 
buried  in  the  parapet  of  their  trenches,"  I  said. 

"I  think  you  are  right,"  the  Colonel  agreed,  and 
then  turning  to  the  soldier:  "There,  little  dove, 
you  are  a  faithful  one  to  fire  so  often  and  care- 
fully at  what  you  thought  was  a  German  waving 


84  SURGEON  GROW 

a  flag,  but  it  isn't  a  flag;  it's  a  paper  moving  in  the 
wind.    Don't  bother  about  it !" 

The  little  fellow  looked  unconvinced  as  we 
moved  on  but,  of  course,  he  obeyed  orders. 

"They  are  like  children,"  the  Colonel  com- 
mented. "As  a  matter  of  fact,  though,  a  man 
standing  for  hours  gazing  at  one  object  can  hyp- 
notize himself  into  believing  almost  anything. 
This  trench  warfare  produces  some  funny  nerve 
conditions.  That  soldier  probably  thinks  the  Ger- 
mans are  as  tired  of  fighting  as  he  is  and  are  wav- 
ing flags  of  truce.  There's  an  observation  point 
on  that  knoll,"  pointing  to  a  rise  of  ground  ahead; 
"we'll  go  and  have  a  look." 

The  trench  sloped  gently  upward  and  presently 
we  came  to  a  strongly  built  bomb-proof  on  the  very 
highest  part.  All  the  trees  had  been  torn  down  by 
shell-fire  and  the  top  of  the  little  hill  was  torn 
and  scarred.  Two  periscopes  peeped  up  through 
holes  in  the  thick  roof  of  the  dug-out.  An  officer 
was  sitting  at  one,  his  eye  glued  to  the  eye-piece, 
slowly  turning  the  milled  screw-head  which  turned 
the  periscope  and  changed  its  visual  field. 

"Be  in  good  health,  Lieutenant!"  the  Colonel 
greeted. 


IN  THE  RUSSIAN  TRENCHES      85 

"Hello,  Andrea  Ivanovitch !"  he  replied.  "What 
brings  you  here?" 

The  Colonel  explained  that  he  was  showing  mc 
around,  and  introduced  me  to  Lieut.  Muhanoff. 

The  Lieutenant  was  a  man  of  thirty-six  but 
looked  older.  His  face  was  covered  with  a  scrag- 
gly  brown  beard  and  his  near-sighted,  humorous 
eyes  peered  through  gold-rimmed  spectacles.  He 
looked  more  like  a  good-natured  schoolmaster 
than  a  soldier. 

"He  speaks  English,"  said  Kalpaschnecoff,  "but 
he's  bashful  and  pretends  he  doesn't.  Come  on 
now,  show  the  American  how  well  you  do  I" 

"I  speak  a  very,  very  little — very  badly.  I 
have  been  to  your  America.  Two  months  I  was 
there.  Yes,  San  Francisco,  New  York — ah,  New 
York !  I  thought  I  should  go  mad — so  much  noise 
and  confusion.  I  was  glad  to  get  back  to  dear 
Russia!"  and  he  smiled  apologetically. 

"You  do  very  well  indeed,"  I  replied,  "and  you 
must  come  to  see  me.  I  will  be  living  in  the  dress- 
ing-station and  will  be  glad  to  talk  to  some  one 
who  has  been  in  America." 

"I  am  commanding  the  scouts,  doing  work  in 
No  Man's  Land,"  he  declared.  "I  am  busy  every 
night  but  when  I  have  time  I  will  come." 


86  SURGEON  GROW 

I  told  him  I  should  like  to  go  with  him  on  some 
of  his  expeditions,  and  he  promised  to  take  me. 
"It  is  very  dangerous,  however,"  he  added,  "out 
there  between  the  lines." 

That  was  the  beginning  of  a  friendship  which 
lasted  almost  a  year — until  one  terrible  day  in 
September,  19 16,  when  he  was  killed. 

"I  am  about  to  have  the  artillery  destroy  that 
old  brick  building  near  the  German  lines.  My 
scouts  think  they  are  using  it  as  an  observation 
point.  The  chimney  is  still  standing  and  it  is  quite 
high.    Take  a  look!"  Muhanoff  invited. 

I  looked  through  the  periscope.  The  trench 
lines  were  farther  apart  here,  possibly  three  hun- 
dred yards  separating  them.  In  front  of  the  Ger- 
man position,  partly  demolished,  was  an  old  brick 
building,  the  chimney  towering  above  the  ruined 
walls. 

Muhanoff  turned  to  an  artillery  officer,  who  was 
poring  over  a  map  under  a  celluloid  cover  with 
lines  marking  it  off  into  squares. 

"All  ready,  Lieutenant,"  he  said  to  the  officer. 

"All  ready,  sir,"  the  artillery-man  repeated,  and 
then  he  called  off  a  couple  of  numbers  to  a  soldier 
seated  at  a  field  telephone  which  communicated 
with  the  battery. 


IN  THE  RUSSIAN  TRENCHES      87 

The  soldier  repeated  the  numbers. 

"Now  watch  through  the  periscope,"  said  the 
Lieutenant,  addressing  me. 

I  turned  the  instrument  to  the  building  and  wait- 
ed. A  minute,  maybe  two,  passed;  then  a 
whistling  sound  in  the  air  overhead  and  a  fountain 
of  dirt  and  yellow,  brown  and  white  smoke  shot  up 
just  in  front  of  the  building,  a  few  yards  from  the 
wall,  as  the  high  explosive  shell  struck  with  a  loud 
crash. 

The  artillery-man  was  watching  through  anoth- 
er periscope.  He  turned  to  the  soldier  and 
called  off  several  more  numbers.  They  were  re- 
peated over  the  telephone  and  after  another 
brief  wait  another  shot  was  fired.  This  time  it 
scored  a  perfect  hit  and  a  large  portion  of  the 
wall  crumbled  down  and  a  shower  of  bricks,  mor- 
tar and  smoke  spurted  up. 

As  I  looked  I  saw  through  the  settling  haze  of 
dust  a  movement  as  of  the  glint  of  sunshine  on 
some  bright  metal.  The  artillery-man  saw  it  too, 
for  I  heard  him  sharply  cry:  "Shrapnel!"  and 
rattle  off  some  more  figures  hurriedly. 

"That  last  one  brought  them  out!"  he  cried  ex- 
citedly, his  eyes  gleaming.  "They  have  an  ap- 
proach-trench running  from  their  fire-trench  out 


88  SURGEON  GROW 

to  those  ruins.  They  are  crawling  back  to  their 
trench  through  it.  They  didn't  stoop  enough  in 
their  hurry  and  I  saw  them  move.  Quick  now 
with  the  battery  and  we'll  catch  them  I"  he  mut- 
tered to  himself. 

Another  screeching  and  a  white  cotton-like  puff 
of  smoke  appeared  a  hundred  feet  over  the  ruins 
and  exploded  with  a  sharp  barking  report,  and  the 
shrapnel  scattered  its  i8o  bullets  on  the  ground 
between  the  ruins  and  the  German  trenches 
searching  out  those  scurrying  Boches  running  for 
their  lives.  Whether  any  of  them  were  hit,  It  was, 
of  course,  impossible  for  us  to  tell. 

He  continued  pounding  away  at  the  old  build- 
ing with  high  explosives  until  the  chimney  and 
walls  were  all  flattened  out  and  nothing  remained 
but  a  heap  of  bricks. 

"I  wonder  If  that  shrapnel  caught  them  In 
time?"  he  murmured  as  he  folded  up  his  map,  lit 
a  cigarette,  and  walked  out. 

As  we  were  going  back  up  the  trench  toward 
the  dressing  station,  we  turned  a  corner  into  a 
traverse  at  a  point  where  the  lines  approach  each 
other  closely. 

"Look  out!"  yelled  the  Colonel,  dodging  back 
against  the  wall  of  the  trench  and  crouching  there. 


IN  THE  RUSSIAN  TRENCHES      89 

As  I  scrambled  back  I  caught  a  glimpse  out  of  the 
corner  of  my  eye  of  an  oblong  object  hurtling 
down  into  the  trench,  turning  end  over  end,  from 
the  direction  of  the  German  lines. 

A  terrific  explosion  occurred  in  the  fire  sector 
we  were  just  about  to  enter.  A  mass  of  earth 
and  wood  flew  up  high  in  the  air  and  showered 
down  on  us,  covering  us  with  dirt. 

"A  big  grenade  from  a  trench  mortar,"  said 
the  Colonel,  brushing  himself  off.  "Fortunately 
they  come  slow  enough  to  be  seen  in  the  day- 
time." 

The  block  of  earth  separating  the  two  fire  sec- 
tors had  protected  us,  but  the  poor  fellow  at  watch 
in  the  next  sector  had  not  fared  so  fortunately. 
We  found  him  badly  mangled,  half  buried  in  earth 
and  timber  from  the  caved-in  parapet.  He  was 
still  breathing  as  I  stooped  over  him,  but  died  be- 
fore we  could  get  him  out  from  under  the  debris 
which  was  piled  on  his  lower  extremities.  His 
head  had  been  crushed  like  an  eggshell  by  a  huge 
fragment  of  the  grenade. 

Several  more  were  fired  at  our  trench  a  hundred 
yards  lower  down,  but  did  no  damage,  as  they 
were  not  direct  hits. 

The  soldiers  In  the  funk-holes  nearby  crawled 


90  SURGEON  GROW 

out  and  picked  up  their  fallen  comrade  by  the  feet 
and  arms  and  carried  bim  off  to  an  approach- 
trench,  his  head  hanging  back  and  bumping  on  the 
uneven  ground.  Another  posted  himself  at  a 
loophole  which  had  not  been  destroyed  by  the 
grenade.  Others  started  to  patch  up  the  parapet 
under  the  direction  of  an  officer.  There  was  no 
excitement.  It  was  all  taken  as  a  matter  of  course. 
In  a  few  minutes  everything  was  as  before  in  that 
sector  except  for  a  hole  in  the  trench  parapet,  a 
few  dark  stains  on  the  earth,  and  a  different  sol- 
dier staring  out  across  No  Man's  Land. 

We  went  back  to  our  dressing  station.  As  we 
entered  the  approach-trench  we  had  to  step  over  a 
huddled  object  covered  with  a  torn  brown  over- 
coat and  we  met  two  of  our  stretcher-bearers  ap- 
proaching with  a  rolled-up  stretcher.  To-morrow 
a  new  wooden  cross  would  appear  back  in  the  for- 
est taking  its  place  among  thousands  of  others  al- 
ready there. 

At  the  dressing  station  we  found  that  an  orderly 
had  just  brought  in  our  dinner.  It  was  carried  in 
porcelain  dishes  racked  or  nested  together  one 
above  the  other  and  held  by  a  wire.  It  was  quite 
hot  and  consisted  of  hot  cabbage  soup,  cutlets  of 
chopped  beef,   fried  potatoes  and  stewed  dried 


IN  THE  RUSSIAN  TRENCHES      91 

fruit.  Tea  was  made  In  a  little  samovar  which 
Nicholl  Alexandrovitch  always  kept  with  him  even 
here  in  the  trenches. 

We  seated  ourselves  on  blocks  of  wood  and 
crude  benches,  using  the  stretcher  for  a  table.  It 
was  covered  with  a  clean  muslin  cloth,  which  I  was 
glad  of,  as  I  had  noticed  several  suspicious  brown- 
ish-red stains  on  the  canvas  earlier  in  the  day. 
We  ate  from  tin  plates  and  had  real  knives  and 
forks  and  glass  tumblers  for  our  tea. 

The  soldiers  have  a  tin  cup,  a  small  copper  pail 
holding  about  a  quart  for  their  soup,  and  a  large 
wooden  spoon  which  they  carry  stuck  in  their  boot- 
leg. The  bucket  and  cup  are  attached  to  their 
belt  on  the  march. 

Mike,  my  new  orderly,  arrived  late  in  the  after- 
noon with  my  cot  and  luggage.  The  Colonel, 
Metia  and  Lieutenant  Muhanoff  left,  and  I  was 
alone  with  Nicholi  Alexandrovitch,  who  could 
speak  no  English.  I  had  been  plugging  away 
steadily  with  my  Russian  and  could  understand 
an  ordinary  conversation  but  spoke  with  difficulty. 
However,  we  got  along  fairly  well,  using  Mike 
when  we  got  into  difficulty  or  resorting  to  the  sign 
language. 

It  was  snug  that  night  down  there  in  the  dug- 


92  SURGEON  GROW 

out.  The  occasional  sound  of  artillery  was  muf- 
fled by  the  thick  walls. 

About  eleven  o'clock,  Nicholi  prepared  to  re- 
tire. He  stood  a  long  time  with  the  covers  of  his 
cot  turned  down  leaning  over  with  a  candle  in 
his  hand.  Long  and  intently  he  scrutinized  it,  the 
ritual  lasting  for  about  ten  minutes,  and  then  he 
blew  out  the  candle  and  crawled  into  bed.  I  sup- 
posed it  some  strange  Russian  religious  ceremony 
and  made  no  comment. 

After  a  while  I  too  turned  in.  It  was  quiet  and 
dark  in  the  dug-out  and  I  soon  became  drowsy. 
Just  as  I  was  falling  asleep,  I  felt  an  itchy  spot 
just  below  the  knee.  I  rubbed  it  with  the  other 
leg  and  at  once  developed  a  similar  condition  on 
the  ankle  of  that  leg.  I  concluded  that  I  had 
eaten  something  that  day  which  had  given  me 
hives.  Another  and  another  place  started,  until 
I  seemed  to  have  half  a  hundred  of  them,  and 
as  I  squirmed  and  tossed  about  I  figured  that  I 
must  be  spotted  like  a  leopard  and  I  got  out  of 
bed  to  see. 

I  got  a  candle  and  lighted  it  and  an  examination 
of  my  body  revealed  a  typical  attack  of  hives — a 
very  nasty  one. 


IN  THE  RUSSIAN  TRENCHES      93 

A  chuckle,  somewhat  muffled  by  the  bedclothes, 
sounded  from  the  student's  end  of  the  room. 

"Blockie,  Meester?"  inquired  a  sleepy  voice. 

"No,  hives — urticaria,"  I  replied,  giving  the 
medical  name. 

"No,  no,  Meester;  blockief"  Insisted  the  stu- 
dent. 

"What  In  the  devil  are  blockief"  I  asked. 

"I  will  show  you,"  and  he  shuffled  over  to  my 
cot,  took  the  candle  and  searched  in  my  bed.  Pres- 
ently he  made  a  dive  at  something  and  presented 
me  with  a  tiny  black  mite  held  between  his  fore- 
finger and  thumb — a  little  flea. 

His  strange  maneuver  before  retiring  was  no 
longer  a  mystery  to  me — it  was  one  I  performed 
or  Mike  performed  for  me  every  night  for  the 
next  eighteen  months! 

Nicholi  produced  some  powder  from  his  cot 
and  dusted  it  over  my  bed  and  between  the  cov- 
ers, after  searching  around  and  finding  three  more 
fleas. 

"Now,  Meester  can  sleep,"  he  said;  and  I  did 
— very  well. 

A  great  blessing  Is  good  Insect  powder  on  the 
Russian  front  I 


CHAPTER  IX 


I  GO  "over  the  top" 


"^TEXT  morning,  while  we  were  having  our 
tea  piping  hot  from  NIcholi's  samovar,  the 
stretcher-bearers  brought  in  a  badly  wounded  sol- 
dier. 

He  was  covered  with  a  blanket  and  as  they 
placed  him  on  the  stretcher  I  was  amazed  at  his 
strange  appearance.  He  was  no  longer  than  a 
child  and  yet  his  arms  were  of  the  average  length 
and  his  shoulders  were  broad ! 

As  he  lay  under  the  blood-soaked  blanket,  he 
moaned  feebly.  His  face  was  ghastly,  a  peculiar 
greenish  white. 

As  an  orderly  lifted  the  blanket,  the  poor  fellow 
cried  out: 

"My  feet  I  My  feet !  My  God,  don't  touch  my 
feet  I" 

I  gazed  horror-stricken  as  the  blanket  was  re- 
moved and  I  saw  why  he  had  looked  so  small. 
There  were  nO  feet!     Neither  were  there   any 

94 


I  GO  "OVER  THE  TOP"  95 

legs  to  speak  of — just  stumps  bound  in  blood- 
soaked  bandages. 

"A  high  explosive  shell  dropped  in  the  trench 
near  him  and  exploded,"  one  of  the  orderlies, 
with  blanched  face,  explained  to  me  in  a  whisper. 
"A  large  fragment  struck  him  between  the  knee 
and  the  hip,  carrying  away  both  legs.  One  leg 
hung  by  a  small  strip  of  skin.  Excellency,  but  I 
cut  it  off  with  my  knife,  for  it  was  difficult  to 
carry  him  with  it  swinging  about  before  we  got 
him  on  the  stretcher." 

The  orderlies  had  applied  tourniquets,  partially 
checking  the  hemorrhage. 

"Oh!  my  feet,  why  do  they  pain  so?  Please 
don't  touch  them,  don't  touch  them !"  he  pleaded. 

I  gave  him  a  hypodermic  of  morphine  for  the 
pain  and  a  pint  of  hot  salt  solution  in  one  of  the 
veins  of  his  arm,  for  he  had  lost  much  blood. 

I  tied  off  the  arteries  and  veins  with  cat-gut  to 
prevent  further  hemorrhage  and  then  took  off  the 
tourniquets.  I  then  cleaned  up  the  stumps  as  well 
as  I  could,  applied  iodine  to  the  raw  surfaces 
and  put  on  clean  bandages,  during  all  of  which  he 
complained  bitterly  of  the  pain  in  his  feet — a 
phenomenon  due,  of  course,  to  the  fact  that  the 
nerves  which  had  been  severed  by  the  amputation 


96  SURGEON  GROW 

were  conveying  an  erroneous  message  to  the  poor 
fellow's  brain. 

When  he  had  reacted  sufBcIently,  we  placed 
him  in  one  of  our  little  horse  ambulances,  which 
were  kept  hidden  in  the  forest  a  few  hundred 
yards  back  of  the  trenches,  and  started  him  on 
his  journey  to  the  division  hospital,  which  was 
located  some  four  miles  farther  back.  As  the 
ambulance  slowly  rattled  off  over  the  rough  frozen 
road,  the  poor  fellow  was  still  crying:  "My  feet  I 
My  feetl     How  they  pain!" 

That  afternoon,  as  Nicholi  and  I  were  having 
tea  in  our  dug-out,  the  door  opened  and  Lieutenant 
Muhanoff  entered.  He  brushed  the  powdery  snow 
from  his  sheepskin  coat  and  walked  over  to  the 
stove  to  warm  his  hands.  It  was  only  three-thirty 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  but  already  the  short 
Russian  day  was  drawing  to  a  close  and  we  had  a 
candle  lighted  in  the  dug-out. 

"It  will  be  a  thick  night — four  inches  of  snow 
have  fallen  already,"  he  said.  "It  will  be  a  fine 
dark  night  for  the  little  affair  we've  planned  1" 

"What  little  affair?"  I  asked. 

"Well,  we're  going  to  give  the  Germans  a  raid- 
ing party.  It  won't  amount  to  much — just  two 
companies — about   four   hundred    men — will   go 


I  GO  "OVER  THE  TOP"  97 

over.  The  artillery  will  put  up  a  barrage  on  their 
communication  trenches  and  on  a  certain  sector  of 
their  first-line  trenches  which  form  a  salient.  An 
Intense  fire  will  be  concentrated  at  the  same  time 
on  the  barbed  wire  at  certain  points.  This  prepa- 
ration will  last  about  an  hour,  and  then,  when  the 
fire  on  the  wire  and  the  first-line  lifts,  we  will  go 
over  and  our  artillery  will  then  fire  on  the  com- 
munication trenches  and  the  German  batteries  to 
prevent  the  Germans  from  escaping  and  their 
artillery  from  putting  up  a  barrage  on  us." 

I  showed  him  that  I  was  very  much  interested 
In  the  modus  operandi  and  he  gave  me  further 
details. 

"We'll  only  remain  In  the  German  trenches 
about  five  minutes,  but  we  hope  to  take  some  pris- 
oners and  possibly  some  machine  guns.  The  main 
object,  I  understand,  is  to  prevent  the  Germans 
from  sending .  troops  north  to  the  Riga-Dvinsk 
front  where  there  is  some  heavy  fighting.  If  you 
worry  them  by  raids  at  various  points  on  the  line 
they  become  nervous,  fearing  larger  attacks,  and 
they  won't  weaken  their  line  by  transferring  troops 
to  the  region  where  they  are  really  needed." 

The  Lieutenant  explained  the  proposed  plan 
to  me  as  simply  as  possible,  aware  that  I  knew 


98  SURGEON  GROW 

nothing  of  the  technical  end  of  the  game.  He 
drew  a  rough  map  to  show  the  salient  we  were  to 
attack  and  the  communication  trenches  where  they 
hoped  to  cut  the  Germans  off  if  they  attempted 
to  escape. 

"I  should  like  very  much  to  go  over  with  you," 
I  said,  hardly  hoping  that  I  would  be  allowed  to 
do  so. 

"You  may  if  you  want  to,"  he  replied;  "but  you 
must  remember  that  it  is  very  dangerous  work. 
We  will  take  stretcher-bearers  with  us  to  bring 
the  wounded  back  and,  if  you  want  to,  you  may 
go  with  them.  Have  you  a  white  operating 
gown?" 

I  reached  for  my  gown  which  was  hanging  on 
a  hook. 

"That's  very  good.  We're  all  going  to  wear 
white  on  account  of  the  snow.  It  will  make  us 
invisible  to  the  German  machine  gun  and  rifle 
men.  Put  a  pillow-case  over  your  head  and  you'll 
do  fine!" 

I  snatched  a  pillow-case  from  the  cot  and  put  it 
on. 

"You  look  like  a  cowled  monk,"  Muhanoff 
commented;  "but  it  will  serve  first-rate.  I  will 
call  for  you  at  eight-twenty.     We'll  go  Into  the 


I  GO  "OVER  THE  TOP"  99 

first  line  at  that  time  and  watch  the  artillery  prepa- 
rations, which  starts  at  eight  forty-five,  and  at 
nine  forty-five  we  will  attack.  Have  you  a  good 
revolver?  All  right,  be  prepared  at  eight-twenty!" 

He  closed  the  door  and  was  gone. 

It  was  very  still  there  in  the  dug-out.  Nicholl 
had  gone  out  immediately  after  tea  to  visit  the 
other  dressing-station  and  I  was  all  alone.  The 
candle  cast  flickering  shadows  on  the  earthen  wall. 
A  coal  popped  in  the  stove  and  it  sounded  to  me 
like  a  rifle-shot! 

A  dug-out  with  good  thick  walls  and  a  tightly 
closed  door  is  a  very  dismal  sort  of  place — more 
like  a  tomb  than  anything  else,  with  the  smell  of 
fresh  earth  and  the  dampness.  It  Is  especially  so 
when  you're  alone.  I  felt  like  a  child  when  left 
alone  In  the  dark. 

It  occurred  to  me  that  I  was  doing  a  very  fool- 
ish thing — sticking  my  nose  into  a  dangerous  prop- 
osition like  this  which  really  didn't  concern  me  in 
the  least.  A  little  cold  shiver  ran  up  and  down  my 
spine.  I  wondered  if  the  revolver  which  Dr.  Eg- 
bert had  given  me  really  was  all  right.  I  hadn't 
tried  it  out  and  possibly  the  blamed  thing  wouldn't 
work  at  all  or  the  cartridges  were  stale  or  the 
firing  pin  gummed  up  or  something.     I  took  it 


loo  SURGEON  GROW 

down  and  examined  it  and  as  I  opened  it  up  my 
hand  shook.     I  was  frankly  in  a  blue  funk! 

I  looked  at  my  wrist-watch — 6 :34 — three  hours 
and  eleven  minutes  to  go !  I  opened  the  door  and 
let  in  an  icy  blast  and  a  flying  swirl  of  snow. 

"What  is  the  matter!  Is  Meester  so  warm  he 
keeps  the  door  open?"  exclaimed  Nicholi,  step- 
ping in  the  open  door  a  moment  later,  a  look  of 
astonishment  on  his  red  frosty  face  at  the  pile  of 
snow  which  had  blown  in  and  the  frigid  tempera- 
ture of  the  dug-out. 

"Oh,  no,"  I  replied;  "I  just  wanted  to  give  It  a 
little  airing.  You  can  close  it  now;  it  is  a  bit 
chilly!" 

A  great  deal  might  happen  in  three  hours  and 
eight  minutes.  The  general  might  call  the  little 
party  off  or  I  might  stumble  in  the  trench  in  the 
dark  and  break  a  leg.  One  can  never  tell.  The 
reflection  made  me  feel  a  little  better. 

The  orderly  brought  our  dinner  and  after  din" 
ner  we  had  tea.  I  drank  five  or  six  glasses,  and 
my  spirits  were  considerably  brightened.  I  was 
in  for  it  now  and  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
to  go  through  with  it. 

Promptly  at  eight-twenty.  Lieutenant  Muhanoff 
came  in,  his  scraggly  beard  plastered  with  snow 


I  GO  "OVER  THE  TOP"  loi 

and  ice.  He  stood  by  the  stove  combing  it  out 
with  his  fingers.  He  looked  like  a  be-spectacled, 
bearded  imitation  of  a  stage  ghost,  with  his  white 
gown  and  peeked  head  covering. 

In  his  hand  he  held  two  peculiar  objects  which 
looked  like  tomato  cans  with  long  handles  on 
them,  and  there  were  two  more  in  his  belt,  which 
he  wore  outside  his  white  coat. 

"They  are  hand  grenades,"  he  explained,  ob- 
serving me  looking  at  them.  "They  are  very  use- 
ful to  have  at  times,  especially  if  you  are  not  a 
dead  shot  with  a  revolver.  One  of  these  things 
will  usually  get  anything  within  a  radius  of  five 
meters  when  it  explodes.  You  had  better  take 
these  two  with  you." 

He  showed  me  how  to  insert  the  capsule,  as  he 
called  it,  and  how  to  throw  it,  retaining  in  my 
hand  the  little  metal  ring  which  fitted  over  the 
handle. 

"When  you  throw  it,  hold  on  to  the  ring  and 
let  the  bomb  go,  slipping  the  ring  off  the  handle," 
he  said.  "This  releases  the  spring  which  starts 
the  time  fuse.  The  time  fuse  burns  four  seconds 
after  the  ring  is  pulled  off  and  then  the  bomb  ex- 
plodes. It  is  well  to  drop  flat  on  the  ground  when 
you  throw  it,  especially  if  it  does  not  fall  in  a 


102  SURGEON  GROW 

trench — you'll  be  less  apt  to  be  hit  by  fragments." 

I  took  one  of  the  things  gingerly  In  my  hand. 

"Any  danger  of  it  going  off  from  a  jar?"  I 
asked. 

"No,  not  unless  you  knock  the  ring  off." 

I  determined  to  be  very  gentle  and  to  keep  my 
hand  on  those  rings  in  going  over  the  rough  spots. 

"You  can  carry  a  bomb  In  your  right  hand  and 
your  revolver  in  your  left,"  said  the  Lieutenant, 
as  I  put  on  my  white  coat  and  the  pillow-slip  over 
my  head.  He  strapped  the  other  bomb  in  its  sling 
on  my  belt  outside  the  coat.  As  we  started  out, 
Nicholi  solemnly  shook  hands  with  both  of  us, 
wishing  us  good  luck. 

As  I  stepped  out  of  the  door,  I  thought  hell 
had  been  turned  loose. 

The  air  was  full  of  a  variety  of  sounds  running 
the  scale  from  a  screech  to  the  noise  an  express 
train  makes  when  going  over  a  trestle  while  you 
are  standing  underneath. 

"The  high-pitched  scream  is  from  the  three- 
inch  shells,  and  the  deep  roar  is  from  the  six-inch 
howitzer  shells,"  the  Lieutenant  shouted  In  my 
ear.  "Hurry!  This  way!"  he  said,  slipping  quick- 
ly down  an  approach-trench.     "The  Boches  will 


I  GO  "OVER  THE  TOP"  103 

start  to  reply  in  a  minute  and  we  must  get  under 
cover  1" 

The  roar  of  the  artillery  was  terrific. 

Through  the  tree-trunks  ahead  and  in  the  sky 
above  their  black  tops,  I  could  see  the  flickering 
white  flare  of  a  steady  stream  of  rockets  from  the 
German  trenches. 

"We've  got  them  throwing  up  their  fire-works !" 
the  Lieutenant  shouted  as  we  stumbled  on. 

It  was  snowing  thickly  and  the  flickering  rockets 
produced  peculiar  diffused  light  effects,  indistinct 
yet  very  powerful. 

In  the  first  line,  we  joined  hundreds  of  other 
white  ghosts.  Some  had  glowing  cigarettes  in 
their  mouths,  and  the  pungent  smell  of  makorka, 
the  vile  tobacco  they  smoke,  was  in  the  air. 

They  stood  about,  leaning  against  the  trench 
parapet,  talking  in  subdued  voices  in  little  groups. 
Some  sat  on  the  fire-step  alone  and  silent  with 
white  sheeted  head  bowed,  waiting  for  the  signal 
to  go  over  the  top.  A  very  few  were  laughing 
and  joking,  but  it  was  nervous  laughter  and  some 
peered  intently  out  over  No  Man's  Land  through 
the  loopholes.  Those  who  were  not  going  to  take 
part  in  the  raid  but  were  to  remain  in  the  trenches 
acting  as  reserves  did  not  have  on  the  white  coats. 


104  SURGEON  GROW 

"Come  here  and  look  through  the  loophole  I" 
said  the  Lieutenant  In  my  ear. 

As  I  started  toward  him  I  heard  shells  which 
had  a  different  sound  from  ours — a  sound  which 
rose  gradually  in  pitch  as  though  near  the  end  of 
a  song.  They  were  German  shells.  It  was  their 
reply  to  our  bombardment  and  several  times  I 
saw  a  red  flash  through  the  loophole,  accompanied 
by  a  close  stunning  explosion  which  sounded  as  if 
limbs  of  trees  and  things  were  falling  around  us. 

At  the  culmination  of  a  particularly  vicious 
whiz,  a  terrific  crash  with  a  red  flash  of  light  oc- 
curred about  sixty  feet  down  the  trench,  apparent- 
ly right  on  the  parapet.  The  ground  shook  and 
we  were  covered  with  a  shower  of  dirt. 

"They  are  setting  up  their  barrage,"  the  Lieu- 
tenant explained.  "We'll  have  to  go  through  it. 
Notice  the  next  time  a  rocket  goes  up  how  our 
barbed-wire  is  cut  so  as  to  produce  lanes  through 
which  we  will  go  after  we  leap  over  the  parapet." 
And  then  turning  to  his  orderly,  he  ordered:  "Go 
and  find  Ivan  and  bring  him  here!" 

The  orderly  returned  in  a  minute  with  a  big 
burly  fellow  who  saluted  and  stood  at  attention. 

"This  is  Ivan,"  Introduced  the  Lieutenant.  "He 
Is   the    under-officer   commanding   the    stretcher- 


I  GO  "OVER  THE  TOP"  105 

bearers  of  this  company.  You  will  go  with  him 
and  when  he  returns,  return  with  him  I" 

Then  he  turned  to  Ivan. 

"Ivan,"  he  said,  "take  the  American  doctor 
with  you  and  take  good  care  of  him.  Bring  him 
back  safe  or  I'll  skin  you  alive!" 

"Tak  tochena — that  surely,  your  Excellency," 
said  Ivan,  saluting. 

I  noticed  that  Ivan  was  entirely  unarmed,  car- 
rying only  a  first  aid  kit  slung  over  his  shoulder. 
In  fact,  none  of  the  stretcher-bearers  were  armed, 
and  I  realized  what  a  self-sacrificing  job  theirs 
was — all  take  and  no  give.  If  a  fellow  is  armed 
he  feels  much  better  when  going  into  an  attack, 
but  the  poor  stretcher-bearer  cannot  think  of  his 
own  safety  at  all.  They  can't  even  keep  under 
cover  by  lying  in  shell-holes  on  the  ground  but 
must  keep  on  carrying  the  wounded  back  just  as 
though  a  couple  of  dozen  machine-guns  were  not 
spraying  the  air  full  of  death  right  behind  them. 

Ivan  leaned  against  the  trench  parapet  and  lit 
a  cigarette,  and  in  the  glow  of  the  match  which 
he  held  in  his  cupped  hand  to  shield  it  from  the 
wind  I  got  a  good  glimpse  of  his  face.  He  had 
a  great  red  beard,  fan-shaped  like  the  tail  of  a 
grouse  and  matted  with  snow,  a  red  nose  and 


io6  SURGEON  GROW 

cheeks  and  little  deep-set  gray  eyes  with  bushy 
red  eyebrows,  peering  out  from  under  his  white 
monkish  head  covering.  It  is  queer  how  these 
little  unimportant  things  impress  you  even  when 
your  mind  is  centered  on  bigger  matters,  and  I  can 
recall  that  kindly,  homely  peasant  face  now  after 
two  years  as  plainly  as  though  it  were  yesterday, 
although  I  haven't  seen  it  since. 

I  looked  at  my  wrist-watch  and  saw  by  the 
illuminated  dial  it  was  9:28 — only  seventeen  min- 
utes more. 

I  was  trembling  all  over  from  suppressed  excite- 
ment. 

Looking  through  the  loophole  I  could  scarcely 
make  out  the  German  trenches  through  the  whirl- 
ing snow  and  flying  smoke  of  exploding  shells, 
even  when  the  rockets  flared,  although  they  were 
only  two  hundred  yards  away  across  a  slight  de- 
pression in  the  ground.  When  a  particularly  great 
number  of  rockets  lit  up  the  snow-covered  field  I 
could  just  see  a  thicket  of  black  stakes  which 
marked  their  barbed  wire.  Here  and  there  along 
this  hedge  great  black  splotches  showed  where 
our  shells  had  hit,  tearing  up  the  snow  and  earth. 
Red  flashes  and  clouds  of  smoke  rose  from  where 
their  trenches  lay.    A  green  rocket  went  up  from 


I  GO  "OVER  THE  TOP"  107 

their  trenches  and  several  machine-guns  started  to 
pound  away,  sounding  like  riveting  machines  on  a 
sky-scraper  at  home,  followed  by  the  cracking  of 
rifles  all  going  like  mad. 

"They  are  getting  nervous,"  said  the  Lieuten- 
ant at  my  elbow — In  which  respect,  I  thought, 
they  were  not  much  worse  off  than  I. 

I  could  hear  ricochets  spee  overhead  in  the 
trees  and  the  crack  of  bullets  hitting  the  branches, 
and  occasionally  dirt  would  be  thrown  from  the 
parapet  of  the  trench  as  one  struck  not  a  foot 
above  my  head. 

The  small-arm  fire  gradually  quieted  down  but 
did  not  entirely  cease,  a  machine-gun  sputtering 
nervously  every  now  and  then. 

"How  they  must  be  straining  their  eyes  trying 
to  pierce  the  screen  of  whirling  snow-flakes  for 
the  first  movement  In  No  Man's  Land!"  declared 
the  Lieutenant.  "The  company  on  our  left  will 
go  over  a  few  seconds  before  we  do.  They  have 
a  little  farther  to  go — to  where  the  German  com- 
municating-trench runs  back.  They  must  get  back 
there  to  head  the  Boches  off  when  they  try  to 
leave  the  salient  that  we  will  attack.  You  wait 
until  the  stretcher-bearers  go  forward — they  will 
follow  us — and  stick  close  to  Ivan !" 


io8  SURGEON  GROW 

Two  minutes  more,  my  watch  told  me. 

"Look  to  your  left!"  the  Lieutenant  shouted. 

I  looked  but  could  see  nothing  but  whirling 
snow  in  the  flickering  glare  of  the  rockets. 

"The  company  on  the  left  went  over,"  he  said. 
"I  heard  their  whistles." 

He  peered  intently  at  his  watch,  holding  a 
whistle  to  his  lips. 

Two  shrill  blasts  and  he  crawled  up  over  the 
parapet  by  means  of  one  of  the  little  ladders  placed 
there  for  the  purpose.  He  was  followed  by  the 
white-draped  figures  of  his  men.  They  did  not 
hurry  but  went  carefully  over,  and  as  I  looked 
down  the  line  of  the  trench  I  could  make  out  a  few 
low-stooping  figures  passing  slowly  out  through 
the  lanes  in  the  barbed  wire.  They  were  crawling 
and  nearly  invisible  in  their  white  garb.  In  a  mo- 
ment or  two  our  sector  was  deserted  except  for 
the  stretcher-bearers  and  reserves  who  were  gaz- 
ing out  of  their  loopholes. 

"Come !"  said  Ivan,  and  crawled  up  over  the 
parapet. 

I  was  in  a  daze.  My  brain  felt  numb.  I  was 
trembling  all  over  but  I  followed  with  my  heart 
thumping  under  my  ribs. 

As  I  stuck  my  head  and  shoulders  over  and 


f.  ||p|rP^««.^^'7!1l!^f  ^^MP^-- 


w^mt^    " C 


\ 

^^W 


White  gowns  were  worn  by  the  Russian  troops  as  camouflage  when  raid- 
ing the  German  trenches  through  the  wastes  of  snow. 


One  of  the  first  women  soldiers.  She  was  in  the  First  Siberian  Army 
Corps,  to  which  the  author  belonged,  in  1916.  Wounded  at  the  battle 
of  Postovy  after  reaching  the  third  German  line  of  trenches  in  the  at- 
tack, she  was  rescued  and  brought  to  the  author's  dressing  station,  where 
her  sex  was  discovered. 


I  GO  "OVER  THE  TOP"  109 

looked  out  I  saw  three  blood  red  rockets  shoot 
up  from  the  German  lines  on  the  left  and  then 
a  dozen  machine-guns  started,  together  with  a 
sharp  volley  of  rifle  fire,  and  the  screech  of  shells. 
The  wicked  red  flashes  and  the  sharp  stunning  re- 
ports of  their  explosions  indicated  the  starting  of 
the  German  barrage  through  which  we  had  to 
pass. 

The  red  rockets  were  thrown  up  by  the  Ger- 
mans, who  had  seen  the  attacking  company  on 
their  right  and  were  asking  for  an  artillery  bar- 
rage. 

I  followed  Ivan's  great  stooping  bulk  as  he 
scurried  quickly  through  the  barbed  wire,  half  a 
dozen  stretcher-bearers  following  at  my  heels. 

There  was  a  rip  of  tearing  cloth  and  a  stretch- 
er-bearer swore  softly  as  his  white  coat  caught  on 
the  barbed  wire.  I  could  see  nothing  at  all  of  the 
men  of  our  company  who  had  gone  ahead.  They 
were  completely  swallowed  up  in  the  swirling 
snow. 

Ivan  suddenly  stopped  and  leaned  over  some- 
thing white  lying  in  the  snow. 

The  stretcher-bearers  crowded  up  about  him,  a 
sharp  order  was  given,  and  the  white  object  was 
placed  groaning  on  the  back  of  an  orderly,  who 


no  SURGEON  GROW 

started  running  back  toward  our  trenches  with  it. 

We  sped  on  over  the  snow,  the  Germans  now 
firing  all  along  the  line,  and  the  din  of  the  ma- 
chine-guns and  rifles  was  terrific.  Every  now  and 
then  shrapnel  would  explode  overhead  with  a 
coughing  crump!  and  I  could  hear  the  bullets  hit 
the  ground  about  me  as  I  ran. 

Ivan  turned  and  ran  left  and  then  forward 
again,  lifting  his  feet  high  over  a  mass  of  twisted 
wire  and  stakes.  This  was  German  wire  torn  by 
our  artillery  fire.  He  had  found  an  opening  and 
I  followed  him. 

The  firing  directly  in  front  of  us  was  not  so 
Intense,  but  to  the  left,  where  the  Germans  were 
still  throwing  up  their  red  rockets  shrapnel,  H  E 
shells  and  bombs  were  making  a  great  row.  I 
could  hear  voices — Russian  words  of  command — 
above  the  uproar. 

Again  Ivan  stooped  and  another  orderly  went 
back  with  a  limp  form  on  his  back. 

Ivan  started  up  over  a  ridge  of  earth  covered 
with  snow.  He  reached  the  top  and  stood  poised 
a  moment  in  the  glare  of  a  rocket.  Then  he 
coughed  hollowly,  swayed  and  slipped  back,  his 
great  bulk  crashing  on  top  of  me  and  carrying 
me  down  into  a  tangle  of  barbed  wire. 


I  GO  "OVER  THE  TOP"  iii 

As  he  fell,  I  thought  of  the  bomb  in  my  right 
hand.  I  felt  something  warm  running  down  over 
my  face  as  I  squirmed  out  from  under  Ivan's 
body. 

An  orderly  was  bending  over  him. 

"A  bullet  through  the  forehead,  Excellency  I" 
he  reported.  "He  is  quite  dead,  but  I  will  take 
him  back.     Did  they  get  you  too?" 

"Oh,  no,"  I  replied.     "Take  poor  Ivan  back." 

I  wiped  my  sleeve  over  my  wet  face  and  the 
white  cloth  showed  a  dark  stain,  but,  strangely 
enough,  I  felt  no  pain. 

"Sanitar!  Sanitarl"  a  voice  called  from  the 
darkness  ahead. 

I  could  see  no  one  but  crawled  up  cautiously 
over  the  ridge  which  I  knew  was  the  parapet  of 
the  German  trench.  I  looked  down  over  the  par- 
apet and  saw  two  white-coated  figures  looking  up 
at  me. 

"We  have  a  wounded  officer  here,"  one  of  them 
said,  as  I  slid  over  the  parapet  with  the  four  re- 
maining orderlies.  He  pointed  to  a  third  figure 
seated  on  the  fire-step  of  the  captured  German 
trench.  Two  orderlies  climbed  back  upon  the 
parapet  and  we  passed  the  wounded  officer  up  to 
them. 


112  SURGEON  GROW 

"Be  careful.  It's  his  leg,"  one  of  the  soldiers 
said. 

When  they  had  started  back  across  No  Man's 
Land  with  their  burden,  we  went  down  the  Ger- 
man trench  toward  the  left. 

I  had  gone  only  a  few  feet  when  I  stumbled 
over  a  form  lying  in  the  darkness.  As  I  stooped 
over  It,  one  of  the  soldiers  who  was  following  me 
flashed  an  electric  torch  on  the  ashy  face.  It  was 
a  dead  German  with  a  small  puncture  in  the 
throat  from  which  a  trickle  of  blood  still  oozed, 
and  another  In  the  chest. 

"Bayonet!"  commented  an  orderly  at  my  elbow. 

We  proceeded  on  up  the  trench  and  finally  came 
to  a  number  of  steps  which  led  down  to  a  strongly 
built  dug-out.  I  started  to  go  down  but  was 
stopped  by  one  of  the  soldiers. 

"Don't  go  down  without  first  throwing  a  bomb 
into  the  dug-out,"  he  urged.  "There  may  be 
Germans  lurking  there." 

I  threw  the  bomb  which  I  had  In  my  right  hand 
through  the  open  door,  slipping  the  ring  off  the 
handle.  A  loud  explosion  shook  the  ground.  A 
soldier  flashed  his  searchlight  over  my  shoulder 
as  we  entered  the  dug-out,  which  was  filled  with 
smoke  from  the  bomb. 


I  GO  "OVER  THE  TOP"  113 

Through  the  gray  veil  of  the  little  shaft  of  light, 
we  searched  about  the  dark  Interior  and  found  In 
the  center  an  overturned  table  and,  In  one  corner, 
a  crouching  gray  figure.  The  uniform  was  torn 
and  soaked  with  blood.  As  I  stepped  toward  it, 
the  German  weakly  called:  "Kamerad!" 

The  German's  face  was  covered  with  blood 
from  a  dozen  small  wounds  which  the  bomb  had 
made,  but  as  he  seemed  able  to  walk  we  decided 
to  take  him  with  us. 

The  two  orderlies  led  him  out,  escorting  him 
by  the  arms;  and  when  we  had  gained  the  trench, 
we  found  that  we  had  over-stayed  our  time  by  two 
minutes.  We  clambered  up  over  the  German  par- 
apet and  started  back  on  the  run  over  No  Man's 
Land,  the  two  orderlies  dragging  their  prisoner 
with  them. 

The  Germans  were  now  throwing  a  strong  bar- 
rage In  No  Man's  Land.  From  their  support- 
trenches  rockets  flared  and  they  began  to  shell  the 
trenches  we  had  just  taken.  One  hit  the  parapet 
about  forty  yards  away,  showering  us  with  dirt. 

"I  am  hit  in  the  arm!"  exclaimed  one  of  our 
men,  but  he  changed  his  rifle  to  his  other  arm 
and  went  on. 

We  stooped  low  as  we  ran,  and  as  I  flew  over 


114  SURGEON  GROW 

the  snow  I  had  a  queer  feeling  in  my  back — a  feel- 
ing of  expectancy  as  though  something  were  go- 
ing to  hit  me  right  between  the  shoulders — the 
sort  of  feeling  you  have  when  you're  going  down 
a  dark,  lonely  road  at  night  and  you  suddenly  hear 
the  patter  of  footsteps  just  behind  you. 

The  orderlies  and  their  prisoner  were  left  far 
in  the  rear.  In  front  of  me  I  saw  our  barbed  wire 
and  I  scurried  along  till  I  found  an  opening  and 
plunged  through,  bumping  into  several  other 
white-coats  as  I  scrambled  down  over  the  parapet 
in  a  shower  of  loosened  dirt.  Then  I  sat  down 
on  the  fire-steps  gasping  for  breath.  I  think  I 
had  done  the  last  200  yards  in  less  than  nothing. 

Our  men  who  had  gotten  safely  back  were  talk- 
ing excitedly. 

"I  ran  him  through  and  lifted  him  off  his  feet, 
my  bayonet  bent  and  he  slid  off,"  I  heard  one 
say.  "Our  bayonets  ought  to  be  stronger  and 
thicker.     See  how  it  is  bent." 

I  started  up  the  trench  and  ran  into  Lieutenant 
Muhanoff, 

"You  are  all  right,  I  am  so  glad !"  he  exclaimed, 
grabbing  me  by  the  shoulders.  "Ivan  is  dead — 
dum-dum  bullet  through  the  head.  I  feared  some- 
thing had  happened  to  you.    What  is  wrong  with 


I  GO  "OVER  THE  TOP"  115 

your  face,  you  are  covered  with  blood?"  he  asked 
as  a  rocket  flickered. 

He  led  me  to  a  dug-out  and  held  up  a  candle  to 
my  face. 

"Strange,  no  wound.  How  did  you  get  it?"  he 
asked. 

Then  I  remembered  Ivan — how  he  had  toppled 
over  on  me. 

"Must  be  from  Ivan,"  I  said.  "I  was  at  his 
heels  as  he  climbed  over  the  parapet.  He  fell 
back  on  me  and  I  felt  something  warm  running 
down  my  face." 

We  were  joined  by  several  young  officers  who 
had  taken  part  in  the  raid  and  their  conversation 
reminded  me  of  the  dressing-room  after  a  foot- 
ball game,  when  the  team  discusses  the  incidents 
of  the  game. 

"Our  company  on  the  left  flank  got  off  in  the 
snow,"  said  a  boyish  looking  oflicer,  his  eyes  glow- 
ing. "We  could  not  see  a  thing.  We  went  too 
far  to  the  left  and  were  late  in  shutting  off  the 
communication-trench.  A  lot  of  Germans  escaped 
before  we  got  there.  You  fellows  in  the  other 
company  got  in  before  we  did  and  drove  them  out. 
Say,  how  many  machine-guns  did  we  get?" 

"Five." 


ii6  SURGEON  GROW 

"That's  good;  we'll  have  that  many  more  in 
the  regiment.    And  we  got  twenty  prisoners,  too." 

(The  Russian  regiments  at  that  time  averaged 
about  15  machine-guns  to  the  regiment;  the  Ger- 
mans had  about  80  to  the  regiment.) 

"Yes,  and  we  would  have  had  more  if  your  old 
company  had  not  got  lost.  You  fellows  should  not 
be  allowed  out  after  dark!" 

We  left  them  chatting  away,  and  walked  to- 
ward our  dressing  station.  The  Germans  were 
still  throwing  rockets  and  pounding  the  section 
we  had  raided  with  H  E  shells. 

"They  are  not  certain  whether  we  are  still  there 
or  not,"  explained  the  Lieutenant. 

"How  many  men  did  we  lose?"  I  inquired. 

"I  think  there  were  8  killed  and  45  wounded." 

At  the  dressing-station  we  found  Nicholi  Alex- 
androvitch  bandaging  the  German  we  had  taken 
from  the  dug-out. 

"We  have  finished  with  eight  of  our  wounded: 
they  are  now  on  their  way  back,"  said  Nicholi. 
"The  other  regimental  stations  handled  the  other 
wounded." 

The  wounded  German  was  a  middle-aged  man. 
He  did  not  look  very  formidable.  He  was  cov- 
ered with  small  wounds  from  the  exploding  bomb. 


I  GO  'OVER  THE  TOP"  117 

He  looked  so  pathetic  and  helpless  as  he  sat  there 
having  his  numerous  cuts  touched  with  iodine  that 
I  felt  sorry  for  him. 

"I  ran  into  the  dug-out  when  the  Russians  en- 
tered our  trenches,"  he  said.  "I  could  not  get  to 
an  approach-trench  as  I  heard  the  Russians  ahead 
blocking  my  escape.  I  was  hiding  in  the  corner 
when  there  was  a  terrible  explosion  and  I  was 
driven  up  against  the  wall.  Then  some  Russian 
soldiers  came  and  brought  me  here." 

I  was  glad  he  didn't  recognize  me,  as  I  felt 
rather  guilty  about  that  bomb.  His  wounds,  while 
numerous,  were  not  dangerous  and  barring  tetanus 
or  blood-poisoning  he  would  recover.  He  was 
soon  bumping  back  over  the  rough  roads  in  one 
of  our  ambulances  bound  for  the  division  hospital. 

The  Boche  artillery  was  quieting  down.  Occa- 
sionally a  machine-gun  could  be  heard  pounding 
out  a  few  nervous  shots,  and  then  all  would  be 
quiet. 

We  sat  down  to  discuss  the  night's  work.  Mike, 
his  face  beaming  with  smiles  that  I  had  returned 
safely,  brought  in  the  samovar,  we  lit  our  long 
fragrant  cigarettes  and  leaned  back  In  comfort. 
When  Lieutenant  Muhanoff  rose  to  go  I  accom- 
panied him  to  the  door.    The  position  lay  as  quiet 


ii8  SURGEON  GROW 

as  before  the  raid.  There  was  an  occasional  rocket 
and  a  single  rifle  shot  now  and  then,  but  that  was 
all.  The  snow  had  stopped  falling  and  the  sky 
was  clear.  Great  sparkling  stars  glared  coldly 
in  the  black  arch  of  the  heavens  and  the  wind 
murmured  softly  through  the  branches  of  the 
pines.  It  was  hard  to  realize  that  a  few  hours 
ago  this  peaceful  Russian  forest  had  been  a  howl- 
ing inferno. 


CHAPTER  X 

I   MEET  THE   CZAR 

TTTEEKS  slipped  by — weeks  full  of  interest 
'  '  to  me  to  whom  everything  was  new.  Every 
day  there  were  a  few  wounded  but  not  many,  for 
both  sides  were  sitting  quietly  waiting,  waiting  and 
filling  up  their  regiments  with  reserves  and  their 
ammunition-dump  with  shells.  New  regiments 
were  mo^;ed  in  every  two  weeks,  but  we  stayed, 
working  with  each  regiment  of  our  division  as  it 
came  out  of  reserve. 

They  would  come  stealing  In  at  night — a  long 
line  of  men  In  columns  of  fours,  down  the  dark 
road  through  the  forest.  No  talking  was  allowed 
and  there  wasn't  a  sound  except  their  feet  crunch- 
ing the  hard  frozen  snow,  the  occasional  clank  of 
a  tin  cup  against  an  intrenching  tool,  subdued 
coughs,  or  a  low  word  of  command  from  an  officer. 
There  were  long  waits  in  the  frosty  air  as  they 
filed  through  the  communication-trench  by  squads 
to  the  fire-trench  to  take  up  the  positions  of  their 

119 


120  SURGEON  GROW 

tired  comrades  at  the  loopholes.  The  men  who 
were  released  would  come  out  through  the  com- 
munication-trenches in  little  groups,  line  up  on  the 
road  beside  the  new  regiment,  and  soon  another 
regiment  would  have  formed  under  the  shelter  of 
the  pine-trees — bound  for  the  billets  a  few  miles 
to  the  rear.  Off  they  would  go  silently  till  a  mile 
or  so  back  from  the  trenches.  Then  they  would 
start  one  of  their  wonderful  marching  songs.  I 
can  hear  them  now  as  I  write — the  fine  majestic 
swing,  with  the  plaintiveness  of  the  East  in  it, 
ringing  out  on  the  hard,  cold  air. 

One  day  Colonel  Kalpaschnecoff  came  in  with 
the  news  that  the  Emperor  Nicholas  was  to  visit 
our  corps. 

"There  will  be  a  big  review  of  our  troops  who 
are  in  reserve,"  he  said.  "It  will  be  worth  seeing. 
The  Emperor  will  stay  at  the  staff  for  several 
days.  You  must  come  to  the  staff  dinner  and 
meet  him." 

The  day  before  I  was  to  ride  back  to  the  staff, 
Michael,  my  orderly,  asked  me  if  I  cared  to  take 
a  bath  before  I  started.  I  had  been  bathing  in  a 
tin-basin  not  much  larger  than  a  soup  plate. 
Michael  had  always  insisted  upon  helping  me  but 


I  MEET  THE  CZAR  121 

he  would  shake  his  head  and  Indicate  his  disap- 
proval at  such  methods  of  ablution. 

"That  way  no  good,  Meester,"  he  would  say 
in  his  pigeon  English,  as  I  balanced  on  one  foot 
in  the  tiny  basin,  splashing  the  water  about  the 
dug-out.    "Russian  bath  better." 

"I  know  it's  no  good,  Mike,"  I  would  reply, 
"but  it's  the  best  the  country  seems  to  afford." 

"Meester,  go  with  me  to  Russian  bath,  yes?" 
he  persisted,  when  I  asked  him  to  get  the  hot 
water  on  this  particular  afternoon. 

"Russian  bath!"  I  exclaimed  in  astonishment. 
"How  can  I  run  up  to  Petrograd  and  be  back 
to-morrow,  Mike?    What  are  you  talking  about?" 

"Have  Russian  bath  here — about  one-half 
verst." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  before?" 

"I  think  Meester  like  American  way  better." 

We  started  off,  Mike  leading  the  way,  carrying 
soap,  towels  and  clean  clothes.  Finally  we  came 
to  two  big  dug-outs. 

Steam  was  pouring  from  their  crude  chimneys 
and  leaked  out  through  the  chinks  of  the  doors, 
rising  in  clouds  In  the  cold  air.  The  door  of  one 
of  the  dug-outs  suddenly  opened  and  a  gust  of 
steam  swirled  out,  from  which  emerged  three  fig- 


122  SURGEON  GROW 

ures  clad  in  their  birthday  garments — big,  husky 
Siberians  with  not  a  stitch  on  them.  Steam  rose 
from  their  wet,  shinmg  skin,  which  was  almost  the 
color  of  a  fresh-boiled  lobster.  They  rushed  off 
Into  the  deep  snow,  capering  about  in  the  drifts 
while  I  stood  gazing  at  them  in  astonishment. 

One  dived  into  a  snow-bank  and  kicked  and 
rolled  about  while  the  others  pelted  each  other 
with  snow.  I  thought  I  had  wandered  into  a  mad- 
house. After  romping  about  for  several  minutes, 
they  dashed  back  with  loud  cries  into  the  dug-out. 

"Russian  soldier  takes  bath,"  laconically  re- 
marked Mike. 

"If  you  think  I'm  going  to  bathe  in  a  snow- 
drift, Mike,  you're  very  much  mistaken,"  I  said. 

"Oh,  no;  only  soldier  does  that.  Siberian  sol- 
dier very  strong.    No  get  sick." 

We  approached  the  other  dug-out.  Over  the 
door  a  crude  sign  read  "Ofetsersky  Bonyah" — 
"Officers'  Bath."  We  went  down  the  steps  and 
opened  the  door.  It  led  into  a  room  with  a  steam- 
ing atmosphere.  The  temperature  was  about  90° 
Fahrenheit.  A  large  stove  of  rough  masonry  with 
a  huge  fire-box  in  which  logs  were  burning,  filled 
one  end  of  the  room.  Several  soldiers  were  piling 
on  more  wood. 


I  MEET  THE  CZAR  123 

Another  door  opened  Into  a  smaller  room  which 
was  not  so  steamy  nor  hot.  There  were  benches 
around  the  sides  and  pegs  in  the  wall  to  hang 
clothes  on.  This  was  the  dressing-room.  Great 
drops  of  moisture  dripped  from  the  ceiling  and 
walls  on  to  the  floor,  which  was  made  of  close- 
laid  saplings  hewn  square. 

We  stripped  and  Mike  opened  the  door  which 
led  into  the  bath-room  proper.  I  stepped  in.  The 
room  was  frightfully  hot.  The  other  end  of  the 
great  stove  projected  through  the  wall.  Above 
the  fire-box  was  an  opening  like  an  oven  which 
was  filled  with  stones.  Beside  the  oven,  placed 
so  as  to  catch  some  of  the  heat,  was  a  steaming 
kettle  of  water.  At  one  end  of  the  room  I  could 
see  dimly  through  the  vapor  a  series  of  step-like 
benches  in  tiers  reaching  almost  to  the  ceiling. 
On  the  walls  hung  dippers  and  bundles  of  birch 
twigs  tied  together.  A  barrel  of  cold  water  com- 
pleted the  equipment. 

Mike  told  me  to  sit  on  the  bench.  Then  he 
dipped  out  a  ladleful  of  water  and  threw  it  on  the 
hot  stones  in  the  oven.  With  a  loud  hiss,  a  great 
volume  of  steam  flooded  the  room,  and  I  thought 
I  would  suffocate.  He  repeated  the  process  and 
I  thought  I  would  parboil.     Another  attack  and 


124  SURGEON  GROW 

I  felt  that  I  was  quite  done  and  ready  to  serve  I 
To  my  anguished  mind  he  appeared  as  an  Imp  of 
Satan,  skipping  about  In  the  rolling  clouds  of 
vapor  as  he  dodged  back  to  avoid  the  first  out- 
pouring of  the  scalding  stuff — at  least  his  skin 
resembled  that  of  an  Imp,  a  fine  scarlet. 

By  this  time  I  was  sizzling.  Every  bit  of  mois- 
ture In  my  body  seemed  to  be  pouring  out  of  my 
skin  In  droplets.  I  felt  like  a  turkey  being 
"basted." 

Mike  approached  me  with  a  basin  of  hot  water 
and  doused  me  with  It.  He  made  me  lie  full 
length  on  one  of  the  planks  while  he  soaped  me 
and  scrubbed  me  with  a  scrubbing  brush.  Then 
he  poured  more  hot  water  on  me,  and  seizing  two- 
of  the  bundles  of  birch  switches  proceeded  to  lay 
them  on,  one  In  each  hand,  beating  a  tattoo  up 
and  down  my  scalded  back,  stopping  only  to  throw 
more  water  on  the  hot  stones  when  the  tempera- 
ture of  the  room  threatened  to  fall  below  220°! 

Then  he  seized  a  bucket,  plunged  it  In  the  bar- 
rel of  Icy  water  and  let  me  have  It.  As  I  gasped 
and  sputtered  and  writhed  on  the  plank,  he  appro- 
priately announced:     "All  finish!" 

I  reeled  out  of  that  chamber  of  horrors  to  the 


I  MEET  THE  CZAR  125 

comparatively  earthly  temperature  of  the  cooling 
room. 

When  I  reached  our  dressing  station,  Nicholi 
rose  as  I  entered  the  door  and  shaking  my  hand 
said  politely:  "I  congratulate  you!"  I  thanked 
him,  stating  that  I  too  was  glad  to  have  survived 
the  ordeal,  but  I  afterward  found  out  that  such 
congratulations  are  customary  in  Russia  and  I 
can  quite  appreciate  the  origin  of  this  ancient  and 
sensible  rite.  Russian  baths  are  like  olives,  how- 
ever, and  I  soon  became  accustomed — or  hardened 
— to  them. 

The  next  morning  I  rode  my  little  Siberian  pony 
back  to  the  base  near  the  staff.  The  Emperor's 
private  train  was  to  arrive  at  two  o'clock  at  the 
station  of  Ceslivano,  which  was  twenty  miles 
away. 

At  twelve-thirty.  General  Pleschcoff  went 
through  the  village  in  the  Benz  limousine — bound 
for  the  station  to  meet  him.  He  was  followed 
by  an  escort  of  a  squadron  of  Cossack  cavalry. 

This  motor,  incidentally,  formerly  belonged  to 
Prince  Eltel  Frederich  of  Germany,  son  of  the 
Kaiser.  It  was  captured  during  the  Germans' 
second  attack  on  Warsaw  by  the  soldiers  of  our 
First  Siberian  Army  Corps.  Our  troop  had  broken 


126  SURGEON  GROW 

through  the  German  line  in  a  counter-attack  and 
some  Cossacks  attached  to  the  corps  got  through 
to  a  considerable  depth  and  nearly  captured  the 
Prince !  His  car  had  become  stalled  in  the  mud 
and  he  was  forced  to  flee  on  horseback,  abandon- 
ing the  motor,  which  the  Cossacks  took  and,  with 
their  ponies,  hauled  back  to  our  lines. 

It  was  a  luxurious  Benz  limousine,  upholstered 
in  gray.  When  captured  it  contained  a  cut-glass 
vase  filled  with  flowers,  a  lunch  hamper  with  com- 
plete equipment  or  dishes,  knives,  forks  and  so 
forth,  with  the  imperial  crest  engraved  on  them, 
and  some  bottles  of  wine,  cigars  and  cigarettes, 
the  latter  bearing  the  Prince's  initials  and  the 
Hohenzollern  crest  on  them.  On  the  door  of  the 
limousine  was  the  imperial  coat-of-arms  in  enamel. 
Some  German  officers  were  taken  at  the  same  time 
and  they  freely  admitted  that  it  was  indeed  the 
Prince's  car.  General  Pleschcoff  now  used  it  as  a 
staff  car  and  I  had  many  enjoyable  rides  in  it. 

Along  the  road  leading  to  the  station,  at  inter- 
vals of  every  hundred  feet,  soldiers  were  posted, 
and  a  platoon  of  cavalry  was  on  guard  at  every 
cross-road.  The  snow  covering  the  twenty  miles 
of  road  had  been  scraped  and  shoveled  into  a  fair- 
ly flat  surface,  and  small  pine  trees  had  been  cut 


KSpSlLf^l 

» !!tvmmmmm='^tTm^'  ||jp 

1 

Abandoned  car  of  Prince  Eitel  Friedrich  of  Germany,  being  hauled  out 
of  the  mud  by  Cossacks  who  captured  it.     Note  the  informal  attire. 


Mid-day  during  winter  on  the  Northern  front.     The  sun  never  rises  any 

higher  at  this  time  of  year.     It  is  dark  at  3:30  P.M.  and  not  light  until 

10  A.M.     The  latitude  here  is  about  53°. 


I  MEET  THE  CZAR  127 

and  planted  in  the  snow-drifts  every  twenty  or 
thirty  feet  on  both  sides,  forming  an  avenue  which 
relieved  the  otherwise  bleak  and  uninviting  land- 
scape. 

These  preparations  had  been  going  on  for  sev- 
eral days  in  anticipation  of  the  visit  of  the  Em- 
peror. 

We  remained  in  the  village,  and  at  four-thirty 
o'clock  a  number  of  motor  cars  could  be  heard 
purring  down  the  road.  The  sentries  stood  stiffly 
at  attention  as  the  car  of  the  German  prince  but 
now  bearing  the  Czar  of  all  the  Russias  passed 
through  the  dusky  street  of  the  little  village.  We 
could  not  see  him  because  it  was  nearly  dark  but 
we  stood  at  attention  in  front  of  our  cabin  until 
he  had  passed. 

A  number  of  other  staff  motors  passed,  crowded 
with  officers,  and  in  front  and  in  the  rear  of  the 
motors  the  Cossack  squadron  rode  at  a  brisk  trot, 
the  steam  rising  from  their  ponies  in  the  frosty 
ail. 

That  night  the  Emperor  had  dinner  with  Gen- 
eral Pleschcoff  privately  and  immediately  after- 
word he  retired  to  rest  from  his  journey. 

At  the  review  the  next  day,  an  entire  division, 
twenty-five  thousand  men,  was  drawn  up  in  a  large 


128  SURGEON  GROW 

hollow  square  in  the  snow-covered  field.  At  one 
end  four  regimental  bands  were  massed.  Our 
little  organization,  with  Its  i8o  orderlies,  was 
lined  up  in  one  corner  of  the  field. 

It  was  very  cold  standing  there  in  the  open  with 
the  wind  whirling  clouds  of  powdery  snow  about. 
After  about  fifteen  minutes,  the  staff  motors  drove 
up,  the  great  band  struck  up  the  Russian  national 
anthem  and  twenty-five  thousand  voices  took  up  its 
majestic  strain. 

The  Emperor  advanced  into  the  middle  of  the 
square,  followed  by  General  Pleschcoff  and  a  large 
body  of  officers.  Every  soldier  stood  at  attention, 
and  when  the  reviewing  party  had  reached  the 
center  the  band  stopped  and  the  Emperor  spoke 
some  words  to  the  soldiers  and  then  started  down 
the  long  line  of  men,  stopping  at  every  company 
to  shake  hands  with  the  officers. 

As  the  Emperor  passed  down  the  line,  the  heads 
of  the  soldiers  turned  as  though  drawn  toward  him 
by  a  magnet,  the  Russian  custom  requiring  every 
soldier  to  look  the  reviewing  officer  In  the  eye 
every  moment.  When  the  reviewing  officer  stands 
still  and  the  troops  pass  by  him  the  same  rule  is 
followed,  so  that  when  they  get  directly  opposite 
him  every  head  Is  turned  sharply  over  the  shoulder 


I  MEET  THE  CZAR  129 

and  snaps  back  like  clockwork  to  a  front  gaze 
just  as  they  pass  him. 

As  the  Emperor  passed  our  corner  I  saw  that  he 
was  dressed  In  the  ordinary  field  uniform  with  the 
insignia  of  a  colonel  on  his  shoulder-straps.  He 
wore  the  plain  brown  overcoat  such  as  we  all  had 
on  and  a  regular  gray  Persian-lambskin  winter 
cap.  He  came  up  to  Colonel  Kalpaschnecoff, 
saluted,  shook  hands,  and  addressed  a  few  friend- 
ly words  to  him  In  Russian,  and  passed  on  to  where 
I  stood  with  my  hand  to  my  cap  In  salute. 

"Our  new  American  doctor,  Your  Imperial 
Highness !"  said  General  Pleschcoff. 

"American  doctor!"  repeated  the  Emperor  in 
perfect  English,  a  kindly  smile  lighting  up  his 
face.  "And  you  have  come  over  here  all  the  way 
from  America  to  help  our  wounded?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  Your  Imperial  Highness,"  I  answered,  In 
English. 

"That  is  very  fine,  very  good  of  you.  We  are 
very  much  In  need  of  doctors,"  and  he  passed  on. 

He  was  a  medium-sized  man,  erect  and  soldierly 
in  bearing.  His  skin  was  a  peculiar  dusky  red. 
He  had  large  dark  eyes — the  kindest  eyes  I  have 
ever  seen. 

He    had    a   brown   moustache    and    a    neatly 


130  SURGEON  GROW 

trimmed  brown  beard.  There  were  a  few  streaks 
of  gray  in  his  beard  and  hair,  and  lines  of  care 
were  beginning  to  show  around  his  eyes  and  brow. 

He  passed  completely  around  the  square.  A 
group  of  priests  clad  in  briUiant  cloaks  of  gold 
and  silver  cloth,  their  long  locks  flowing  in  the 
wind,  contrasted  conspicuously  with  the  dun-col- 
ored uniforms  of  a  choir  of  soldiers.  A  long  re- 
ligious ceremony  followed,  during  which  every 
one,  including  the  Emperor,  stood  bareheaded  in 
the  cold — and  it  was  perhaps  five  degrees  below 
zero. 

At  times  we  all  had  to  kneel  in  the  snow  while 
the  priests  chanted  and  the  soldier  choir  sang  the 
responses,  their  wonderful  Russian  voices  sound- 
ing clear  in  the  sparkling  air. 

It  was  a  most  impressive  ceremony,  the  occa- 
sional far-off  rumble  of  artillery  adding  to  the 
effect. 

In  the  great  room  at  the  staff  that  night,  a 
throng  of  officers  in  uniforms  glittering  with  deco- 
rations were  gathered  in  groups,  gaily  chatting, 
when  the  door  opened  and  the  Emperor  entered. 
A  sudden  hush  fell  on  the  noisy  place  and  every 
man  faced  the  door. 

The  Emperor  went  from  group  to  group  with 


I  MEET  THE  CZAR  131 

General  Pleschcoff,  greeting  each  man  cordially. 

When  he  came  to  me,  a  friendly  smile  lit  up 
his  countenance. 

"How  do  you  like  It  here  In  the  Russian  army? 
Isn't  the  life  too  rough  for  you?"  he  asked.  "We 
are  a  very  simple  people  at  best  and  our  climate 
in  winter  Is  most  trying,  but  I  hope  you  are  com- 
fortable." 

I  told  him  that  everything  had  been  done  to 
make  me  happy  and  that  I  was  enjoying  the  life 
and  the  work  very  much.  I  noticed  that  the  brick- 
red  dusky  coloration  of  his  face,  which  I  had 
thought  in  the  afternoon  might  be  due  to  the  cold 
air  of  the  reviewing  field,  still  remained.  He  had 
a  trick  of  nervously  stroking  back  his  moustache 
and  then  passing  his  hand  to  the  side  of  his  neck 
where  the  fingers  would  gently  rub  the  skin.  This 
was  repeated  on  many  occasions,  particularly  when 
he  was  absorbed  in  thought.  He  Impressed  me  as 
an  unassuming  kind  of  man  who  would  rather  be 
in  some  secluded  spot  with  his  children  than  In 
the  turmoil  and  ceremony  of  court  life,  and  I  think 
of  him  now,  out  there  in  the  little  Siberian  town 
where  he  is  In  exile,  not  as  a  disappointed  and 
unhappy  man  but  rather  as  being  content  in  the 


132  SURGEON  GROW 

bosom  of  his  family  unburdened  of  the  cares  of 
state. 

At  dinner,  conversation  flowed  freely  around 
the  board  without  the  least  restraint,  despite  the 
fact  that  the  ruler  of  the  destinies  of  two  hundred 
million  people  was  seated  there. 

When  we  left  the  staff  that  night,  Kalpaschne- 
coff  remarked:  "We  all  love  the  Emperor.  Un- 
fortunately he  Is  surrounded  In  Petrograd  by  a 
crowd  of  men  In  which  there  is  much  pro-German 
influence.  If  he  only  had  the  strength  of  character 
that  the  Grand  Duke  Nicholas  has,  things  would 
be  better  In  Russia.  When  the  Grand  Duke  was 
Commander-in-Chief,  he  was  feared  and  at  the 
same  time  loved  by  the  army  because  he  was  al- 
ways fair  in  his  treatment  of  the  soldiers  even 
though  he  was  a  strict  disciplinarian.  Our  Em- 
peror detests  strife.  He  tries  to  smooth  every- 
thing over.  Instead  of  kicking  out  the  German 
propagandists  he  is  willing  to  endure  them  al- 
though he  knows  full  well  that  they  are  the  un- 
doing of  the  nation." 

The  Colonel's  views  were,  of  course,  fully  sus- 
tained by  the  events  which  followed. 


CHAPTER  XI 

OVER  THE   GERMAN  LINES 

T  T  was  now  past  mid-winter.    A  foot  and  a  half 
of  snow  covered  the  ground  and  the  cold  was 
intense,  sometimes  as  low  as  fifteen  degrees  below 
zero. 

The  vast  forest  and  swamps  and  fields  through 
which  the  far-flung  northern  fighting  line  passed, 
lay  sleeping  white  and  desolate  beneath  the  gray 
skies. 

The  two  great  armies  apparently  shared  na- 
ture's lethargy,  but  they  were  not  asleep.  Always, 
day  and  night,  they  lay  watching,  waiting  like  two 
great  beasts  to  spring  at  each  other's  throat. 
By  day  the  aeroplanes  winged  their  way  through 
the  frigid  atmosphere,  and  by  night  the  patrols 
crept  out  in  No  Man's  Land  seeking  information 
concerning  the  enemy.  Watching,  waiting,  not  a 
battalion  moved  on  the  German  side  but  what  we 
knew  it,  and  they  were  equally  well  informed  of 
our  maneuvers. 

133 


134  SURGEON  GROW 

One  cold  night  I  was  called  to  our  aviation  field 
to  see  one  of  our  aviators  who  had  been  taken 
sick.  I  treated  him  for  the  next  day  or  two  and, 
by  way  of  appreciation,  he  offered  to  take  me 
across  the  lines  in  his  machine  some  day  if  I 
wanted  to  go,  although  it  was  against  orders. 
I  told  him  I  would  certainly  like  to  go  if  it  wouldn't 
get  him  into  any  trouble;  and  some  three  weeks 
later  I  got  a  note  from  him  telling  me  to  be  at 
his  hangar  at  three  p.m. 

I  found  the  Captain  testing  out  a  big  two-seated 
machine  in  the  snowy  field. 

"This  was  formerly  a  German  plane,"  he  ex- 
plained. "We  shot  her  down  inside  our  lines  and 
as  she  was  not  very  much  damaged,  we  fixed  her 
up  and  are  using  her.  She  is  of  Albatross  observa- 
tion and  bombing  type — not  very  fast  but  big  and 
steady." 

He  adjusted  a  fur-lined  leather  helmet  to  my 
head.    It  covered  everything  but  my  eyes. 

"It  will  be  very  cold  this  evening,  but  the  air 
conditions  are  good  for  flying.  You  sit  here  in 
the  observer's  seat,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a  little 
cock-pit  in  the  body  of  the  machine  back  of  the 
driver's  seat.  He  adjusted  the  belt  to  my  waist, 
strapping  me  in  the  seat.    On  a  metal  rail  around 


Machine  guns  mounted  on  revolving  stand  for  use  against  enemy  aero- 
planes.    The  Russians  had  only  15  of  these  weapons  to  a  regiment,  as 
compared  with  the  Germans'  80. 


German  albatross-type  aeroplane  shot  down  by  the  Russian  anti-aircraft 

guns.     It  was  repaired  and  used  by  Russian  aviators.     In  this  machine 

the  author  flew  over  the  German  lines  under  shell  fire. 


OVER  THE  GERMAN  LINES      135 

the  cock-pit  was  mounted  a  light  machine-gun  on 
a  universal  joint.  Strapped  alongside  my  seat 
under  the  decking  was  a  carbine,  such  as  our  cav- 
alry use. 

"You  may  have  to  fire  the  carbine,  if  neces- 
sary," the  Captain  said,  as  he  took  his  seat  for- 
ward, "but  of  course  you  cannot  operate  the  ma- 
chine-gun. I  have  a  couple  of  bombs  underneath 
ready  for  dropping." 

A  mechanic  spun  the  propeller  and  the  motor 
started  with  a  roar  like  a  dozen  machine-guns. 
Several  soldiers  held  on  to  the  wings  to  keep  her 
from  moving.  The  strong  blasts  of  air  shot  back 
by  the  whirling  propellers  struck  me  in  the  face. 

The  Captain  nodded  his  head,  the  soldiers  let 
go  and  we  started  down  the  field. 

Faster  and  faster  we  went.  I  looked  over  the 
edge  of  the  cock-pit  and  ground  was  dropping 
out  from  under  me.  Down  it  went,  objects  shrink- 
ing in  size  as  if  by  magic,  the  wire  stays  humming 
like  a  top  as  the  air  whistled  through  them.  The 
motor  roared  and  we  dipped  and  we  banked  on  a 
turn,  spiralling  upward. 

Fields  and  forests  and  peasants'  houses  stood 
out  like  a  relief  map  and  the  horizon  momentarily 


136  SURGEON  GROW 

receded  as  we  soared  higher  and  higher,  enlarging 
our  scope  of  vision. 

After  some  minutes  of  upward  circling,  we 
headed  straight  for  the  west,  where  the  golden 
sun  was  dipping  beneath  the  edge  of  the  earth. 
I  suppose  that  we  were  at  least  8,000  feet  in  the 
air.    Things  looked  pretty  small. 

In  a  short  time  we  were  over  the  forest  along 
the  farther  edge  of  which  lay  our  trenches.  On 
we  flew,  straight  as  an  arrow,  and  presently  I 
saw  the  "wall  of  Troy"  effect  where  our  trenches 
emerged  in  spots  from  the  edge  of  the  forest. 
Across  a  little  open  space  of  field,  which  I  knew  to 
be  No  Man's  Land,  I  could  see  the  German  lines 
with  their  zigzag  approach  trenches. 

As  we  passed  them,  I  saw  a  yellow-brown  puff 
of  smoke  in  the  air  far  below  and  off  to  the  right. 
Several  others  appeared  as  though  by  magic,  and 
then  above  the  roar  of  the  motor  I  heard  a  faint 
put-put — ^the  explosion  of  German  anti-aircraft 
shrapnel — they  were  shooting  at  us. 

Roads  ran  straggling  off  through  the  forest  and 
over  the  fields  like  black  threads  on  a  white  cloth. 
A  group  of  gray  dots  directly  on  one  of  these 
roads  scattered  and  disappeared  under  the  shelt- 
ering trees  bordering  on  the  road.     I  knew  that 


OVER  THE  GERMAN  LINES      137 

they  were  German  soldiers  getting  under  cover 
fearing  that  we  would  spot  them  and  drop  a  bomb 
on  them.  They  reminded  me  of  chickens  at  home 
when  a  hawk  would  float  over  them. 

More  brown  puffs  of  smoke  appeared,  some 
fairly  close  and  others  far  away,  as  the  Germans 
increased  their  fire  on  us. 

I  was  not  alarmed — those  little  brown  puffs 
looked  so  harmless — and  the  fact  that  I  could  hear 
their  explosion  only  faintly  made  them  appear  less 
dangerous  than  they  otherwise  would  have  done. 

Soon,  however,  the  Germans  began  to  get  the 
range  better  and  then  the  Captain  dipped  and  I 
was  looking  down  over  his  head  straight  toward 
the  earth  for  a  second  or  so.  I  felt  as  if  we  were 
falling:  my  stomach  seemed  rising  into  my  chest. 
Then  we  assumed  the  horizontal  again. 

By  dropping  several  thousand  feet  we  got  un- 
der the  German  shrapnel  which  now  burst  harm- 
lessly above  us  as  we  turned  and  flew  directly 
north  paralleling  the  German  lines. 

Below  I  saw  a  group  of  gray  squares,  the 
thatched  roofs  of  peasant  huts,  from  which  the 
snow  had  melted.  When  we  were  directly  over 
the  village,  the  Captain  pointed  down  with  his 
hand  over  the  side,  indicating  that  I  should  watch 


138  SURGEON  GROW 

closely,  and  then  reached  down  and  manipulated 
something  near  his  feet. 

I  looked  over  the  side  and  saw  a  dark  object 
flash  down  under  the  machine  for  an  instant  and 
then  disappear  as  the  machine  lurched  slightly. 
A  great  white  mushroom-shaped  cloud  rolled  up 
from  the  center  of  the  village.  The  Captain  had 
dropped  one  of  his  bombs,  suspecting,  as  I  learned 
later,  that  the  staff  of  a  German  division  was  lo- 
cated in  one  of  the  larger  houses  of  this  village. 
As  we  moved  on  I  looked  back  and  saw  smoke 
pouring  up  from  the  village,  indicating  that  a 
house  was  on  fire. 

The  sun  was  now  below  the  horizon  and  the 
earth  under  us  was  growing  dusky  and  objects  in- 
distinct. We  headed  east  toward  our  lines,  the 
golden  afterglow  at  our  backs. 

We  were  some  miles  back  of  the  German  lines 
at  a  height  of  about  10,000  feet,  I  should  judge, 
when  the  motor  suddenly  stopped.  The  wind 
whistled  just  the  same  through  the  cordage  but 
the  monotonous  roar  of  the  motor  was  gone. 

The  Captain  leaned  forward,  hastily  working 
on  something  on  the  dashboard  in  front  of  us. 
The  nose  of  the  machine  was  turned  slightly  to- 
ward the  ground.     I  did  not  realize  our  danger 


OVER  THE  GERMAN  LINES      139 

until  the  Captain  shouted:  "We  are  in  for  it 
now — motor  dead — don't  know  whether  I  can 
plane  back  to  our  lines — or  not!" 

In  the  gathering  gloom  below,  I  saw  several 
red  flashes  stab  upward:  then  I  heard  a  screech 
and  several  distinct  explosions  above  us  and  to 
the  right.  With  the  motor  dead,  it  was  easy  to 
hear  the  coughing  report  of  the  German  shrapnel. 
The  earth  seemed  gradually  to  float  up  as  we 
glided  swiftly  down  and  forward  toward  the  lines. 

Could  we  make  it? 

There  was  no  wind  to  help  us.  The  Captain 
devoted  all  his  attention  to  the  machine.  Again 
and  again  he  tried  to  start  the  motor,  but  she  re- 
mained silent.  He  was  getting  all  the  forward 
movement  he  could  with  a  minimum  waste  in  alti- 
tude, peering  intently  through  the  gloom  for  a 
glimpse  of  the  trenches. 

I  pictured  myself  a  prisoner  in  Germany  or 
hanging  by  a  rib  to  the  top  of  a  pine-tree,  for  fields 
suitable  for  landing  were  few  and  far  between. 

Ahead  the  forest  was  broken  by  a  gap.  Per- 
haps, I  thought,  it  was  No  Man's  Land. 

We  were  whirling  down  perilously  close  to  the 
tops  of  the  pines  and  I  knew  that  machine-guns 
and  rifle  bullets  could  easily  reach  us  as  we  crossed 


14©  SURGEON  GROW 

the  lines.  Fortunately  the  motor  was  quiet  as 
we  rushed  along,  so  that  we  flew  silently  and  would 
not  be  so  apt  to  attract  attention. 

There  was  a  loud  explosion  below  and  the  ma- 
chine lurched  drunkenly — the  Captain  had 
dropped  the  remaining  bomb  in  the  first  part  of 
the  German  lines  because  it  was  too  dangerous 
to  carry,  as  we  did  not  know  what  sort  of  landing 
we  would  make. 

We  were  now  crossing  the  open  space.  I  could 
see  the  German  trenches  below  quite  distinctly, 
and  a  slight  crackling  sound  like  fire  in  dry  grass 
came  up  to  me  as  they  sniped  at  us  with  rifles  and 
machine-guns. 

Beyond  the  open  space  of  No  Man's  Land 
stretched  the  black  wall  of  our  forest  barring  the 
way.  We  headed  for  it  and  then  veered  sharply 
to  the  left,  and  I  saw  the  Captain's  objective — 
there  was  a  tiny  clearing  beyond  a  gap  in  the  for- 
est where  the  trees  were  not  so  tall. 

We  got  over  our  lines  and  headed  for  this 
clearing.  If  we  could  just  scrape  over  the  scrub- 
pines,  we  could  make  a  landing.  With  great  skill 
and  judgment,  the  Captain  elevated  her  nose,  per- 
ilously lessening  her  momentum,  for  if  we  slowed 
down  too  much  we  would  have  a  lateral  or  tail 


OVER  THE  GERMAN  LINES      141 

dive  and  be  dashed  to  pieces.  He  dipped  again 
and  I  could  almost  touch  the  tops  of  the  pines  as 
we  shot  over  them.  Then  he  raised  her  nose,  we 
skimmed  a  spiked  top,  and  were  clear  of  the  trees. 

We  glided  down  into  the  center  of  that  little 
clearing,  bouncing  along  over  the  uneven  ground 
and  finally  stopped.  We  both  sat  still  a  moment. 
The  Captain  crossed  himself  and  I  knew  he  was 
murmuring  a  little  prayer  of  thanks. 

A  soldier  came  running  out  of  the  forest,  his 
rifle  held  ready  to  fire,  because  In  the  dark  he 
could  not  tell  whether  we  were  friend  or  foe. 

"All  right,  Galoopchick!"  sang  out  the  Cap- 
tain.    "Don't  shoot:  we  are  Russians!" 

When  the  soldier  came  up  we  found  that  we 
had  landed  in  the  territory  back  of  the  lines  held 
by  the  5th  regiment  of  our  corps — about  two  miles 
north  of  our  dressing  station  and  half  a  mile  back 
of  the  first  line  trenches. 

The  report  the  Captain  made  out  at  our  dress- 
ing station,  at  which  he  stopped  for  a  moment  or 
two,  revealed  to  me  what  training  and  practice  in 
aerial  observation  can  accomplish.  I  have  set 
down  nearly  everything  I  saw  while  above  the 
German  lines,  and  my  eyes  are  far  better  than  the 
average,  but  the  Captain  reported  the  location  of 


142  SURGEON  GROW 

two  new  German  batteries;  the  reoccupation  of  a 
dug-out  village  by  a  new  regiment  of  German 
troops  in  reserve ;  the  fact  that  the  Germans  were 
using  a  certain  field  for  the  drilling  of  troops  In 
reserve;  and  that  field  kitchens  were  brought  up 
at  dusk  on  a  road  which  could  be  easily  reached 
by  our  artillery. 

No  wonder  the  air  has  played  such  an  impor- 
tant part  in  this  war  I 


CHAPTER  XII 

THROUGH  A  SHOWER  OF  SHELLS 

QIGNS  of  unusual  activity  in  the  corps  began 
^^  to  develop  as  the  middle  of  February  was 
reached.  The  days  were  growing  longer,  and 
while  the  cold  was  just  as  intense  one  felt  that 
the  backbone  of  the  winter  was  broken. 

The  aeroplanes  droned  across  the  sky  more 
frequently,  and  the  transport  was  bringing  up 
great  supplies  of  ammunitions  and  stowing  them 
in  the  shell-dumps. 

One  day  a  German  aeroplane  flew  over  our 
lines  and  dropped  circulars  printed  in  Russian 
which  stated  that  the  Germans  knew  we  were  to 
make  an  offensive,  that  they  were  aware  of  all  the 
preparations  we  were  making  and  were  driving 
up  reserves  in  men  and  artillery  to  check  any 
attack  we  might  make.  The  pamphlet  even  went 
so  far  as  to  say:  "We  are  aware  that  you  will 
attack  on  March  6th,  191 6,  Russian  style." 

These  circulars  were  dropped  about  February 
143 


144  SURGEON  GROW 

loth — Russian  style — ^which  is  thirteen  days  later 
than  our  new  style. 

We  were  amused  at  these  announcements,  con- 
sidering them  just  German  bluff,  and  yet  we  could 
feel  something  was  really  in  the  air. 

Orders  came  that  the  entire  army  corps  -was 
to  move  to  a  new  position  about  ten  miles  farther 
south.  We  started  for  our  new  base  oh  February 
27th  and  found  the  roads  choked  with  new  troops 
coming  in  to  replace  our  corps.  For  miles  they 
stretched  across  the  frozen  landscape.  The  roads 
were  like  huge  brown  arteries  through  which 
flowed  slowly  moving  columns  of  men,  artillery 
and  transports,  ebbing  on  endlessly  to  replace  our 
corps — a  constant  stream  of  gray-brown. 

By  March  2nd  we  were  in  the  trenches  taking 
the  place  of  a  Caucasian  division  which  had  been 
holding  them  all  the  winter. 

All  this  time  a  great  concentration  of  artillery 
was  taking  place  directly  in  the  rear  of  our  new 
lines.  Huge  9-inch  and  6-inch  guns  came  lumber- 
ing through  the  village.  The  roads  had  not  yet 
begun  to  thaw  and  they  were  easy  to  move.  End- 
less columns  of  caissons  loaded  with  shells  rattled 
back  and  forth  bringing  up  shells  to  fill  their  gap- 
ing throats.    The  Russian  officers  were  overjoyed 


THROUGH  SHOWER  OF  SHELLS     145 

at  the  Immense  amount  of  big  guns  and  ammuni- 
tion available.  They  were  at  last  to  meet  the  Ger- 
mans on  an  almost  equal  footing. 

"At  last  we  have  enough  artillery!"  exclaimed 
Lieutenant  Muhanoff  excitedly  one  day,  rushing 
into  the  cabin  where  we  had  our  base.  "We'll 
give  them  a  pounding  and  walk  right  through  to 
Vilna." 

Everybody  felt  equally  optimistic,  for  we  heard 
that  General  Pleschcoff  had  been  given  five  army 
corps  to  command.  They  were  placed  on  a  front 
of  about  2S  kilometers,  three  in  the  line  and  two 
in  reserve. 

This  was  apparently  true,  for  already  near  our 
base  a  reserve  army  corps  of  40,000  men  was  in 
billet  in  numerous  Httle  villages  and  dug-out  towns. 
A  division  of  Cossack  cavalry  had  also  been 
brought  up  and  held  in  reserve  in  case  we  broke 
through. 

There  was  no  question  that  a  big  battle  was 
impending.  The  heavy  guns  which  had  reached 
their  positions  were  heard  every  day  getting  the 
range  of  the  German  positions. 

On  March  3rd  I  visited  the  trenches  to  pick 
out  advanced  and  main  dressing  stations  in  our 
first  division. 


146  SURGEON  GROW 

The  trenches  were  again  at  the  edge  of  a  great 
forest,  facing  across  a  flat  open  field,  across  which 
was  another  great  forest  of  pines.  The  German 
trenches  were  on  the  edge  of  the  latter.  The 
field  was  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide  without 
a  bit  of  cover. 

The  new  ground  differed  from  that  which  we 
had  occupied  to  the  north  in  that  it  was  simply  a 
great  swamp.  The  trenches  were  dug  in  only 
about  two  feet.  There  was  a  thick  covering  of 
ice  on  the  bottom.  To  make  up  for  their  lack  of 
depth,  they  had  been  built  up  in  front  with  banks 
of  dirt  and  sod.  On  account  of  the  swampy  char- 
acter of  the  ground,  very  few  dug-outs  had  been 
constructed  and  not  one  fit  for  use  was  at  our  dis- 
posal. We  had  to  work  in  tents  covered  with 
pine  boughs  to  hide  them  from  observation. 

It  gave  promise  of  being  very  nasty,  dangerous 
work.  The  only  protection  we  had  from  the  Ger- 
man artillery  were  the  tree-trunks. 

Our  batteries  were  grouped  In  the  forest. 
There  seemed  to  be  hundreds  of  them,  the  three- 
inch  guns  being  close  to  the  line,  the  heavier  pieces 
two  or  three  kilometers  back.  One  light  battery 
was  up  within  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  of  the 
first  line  trenches. 


THROUGH  SHOWER  OF  SHELLS     147 

As  I  walked  through  the  forest,  I  would  come 
upon  battery  after  battery  cleverly  concealed  In 
the  underbrush.  A  few  hundred  feet  back  of  the 
spot  I  picked  for  the  main  dressing  station,  lo- 
cated about  a  third  of  a  mile  behind  the  trenches, 
were  grouped  sixteen  three-Inch  guns  In  a  line  not 
twenty  feet  apart. 

I  did  not  like  having  the  dressing  station  so 
near,  but  there  was  no  other  place  available.  In 
this  war,  strictly  military  matters  have  first  choice 
— the  care  of  the  wounded  Is  a  secondary  consid- 
eration. 

I  dropped  in  to  see  the  commander  of  one  of 
the  batteries  who  was  known  throughout  the  corps 
as  one  of  the  best  artillery  officers  In  the  army, 
although  he  was  a  queer  old  character.  He  had 
been  wounded  on  three  occasions  earlier  In  the  war 
and  had  the  reputation  of  being  a  regular  old  fire- 
eater.  He  was  pop-eyed  and  had  a  little  beard 
under  his  chin,  and  resembled  very  much  a  patri- 
archal old  billy-goat. 

He  always  kept  two  milk  cows  with  his  battery 
because  he  wouldn't  drink  his  tea  without  milk. 
I  had  just  passed  them,  stolidly  munching  hay, 
tied  to  trees  near  the  battery.     He  also  carried 


148  SURGEON  GROW 

an  old  brassy  graphophone  with  him  wherever  he 
went. 

His  men  had  built  him  a  small  hut  of  logs  and 
dirt,  heated  by  a  charcoal  brazier.  I  pushed  aside 
the  piece  of  canvas  which  served  as  a  door  and 
looked  in. 

He  was  sitting  hunched  up  over  the  brazier, 
his  fur  coat  buttoned  tight  up  around  his  neck  and 
his  bulging  eyes  glowing  in  the  light  of  a  candle 
stuck  in  the  neck  of  an  empty  bottle  as  he  pored 
over  a  map.  The  interior  of  the  hut  was  not 
much  larger  than  a  dog  kennel  but  the  grapho- 
phone was  there  standing  on  a  block  of  wood. 

"Come  in!  Come  in!  Close  the  door:  it  Is 
cold!"  he  bawled.  He  always  shouted  at  me,  evi- 
dently thinking  that  the  difficulty  I  had  in  under- 
standing Russian  was  an  indication  that  I  was 
hard-of-hearing,  although,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
he  had  undoubtedly  acquired  the  habit  of  talking 
loudly  from  the  necessities  of  his  work  when  his 
batteries  were  in  action. 

"Well,  Colonel,"  I  said,  "I  see  you  are  all  fixed 
up  to  give  the  Germans  a  serenade  !" 

"Serenade !  We're  going  to  blow  them  to  hell: 
we're  going  to  blow  them  to  hell!"  he  shouted. 
"They've  concentrated  a  number  of  batteries  in  a 


THROUGH  SHOWER  OF  SHELLS    J49 

clump  of  trees  no  larger  than  my  hand.  We're 
going  to  let  them  have  a  hundred  guns  steadily 
until  we  have  mowed  down  trees,  batteries  and 
everything!  You  won't  find  anything  left  but 
scrap-iron  when  we  finish." 

"Do  you  think  the  Germans  know  we're  going 
to  attack?"  I  asked. 

"Know  it!"  he  yelled.  "They  know  the  exact 
minute  it  Is  to  come  off — which  is  more  than  I  do. 
I  don't  even  know  what  day  it  is  to  be.  They 
knew  long  ago — as  soon  as  it  was  planned  In 
Petrograd." 

He  was  so  excited  that  the  veins  on  his  fore- 
head stood  out  like  cords  and  his  face  was  purple. 
I  returned  to  our  base,  and  the  next  day  we 
brought  down  the  ambulances  and  several  wagons 
carrying  three  tents,  one  large  and  two  small, 
surgical  material,  three  small  stoves,  provision  and 
horse  feed. 

We  made  quite  a  long  column.  As  we  ap- 
proached our  destination  we  had  to  go  over  a 
road  which  ran  across  an  open  field  and  which 
was  exposed  to  the  German  observers.  It  was 
about  3  p.  M.  and  quite  light. 

"I  should  advise  your  Excellency  not  to  cross 


150  SURGEON  GROW 

till  dark,"  advised  a  sentry.  "The  Germans  have 
shelled  every  one  who  has  crossed  to-day." 

It  was  a  good  mile  to  the  screening  forest  be- 
yond. Not  a  living  thing  could  be  seen  on  the 
road,  but  here  and  there  I  could  make  out  the  dead 
bodies  of  horses  lying  sprawled  out  on  the  road 
with  their  legs  sticking  stiffly  in  the  air. 

"All  the  transport  and  artillery  were  brought 
up  at  night,"  the  sentry  continued,  "and  to-day 
only  single  wagons  or  a  small  group  of  men  at  a 
time  have  been  allowed  to  cross." 

I  had  been  ordered  to  have  my  dressing  sta- 
tion in  order  by  the  next  morning,  however,  and 
as  I  could  not  very  well  fix  things  up  in  the  dark, 
I  decided  to  take  a  chance  despite  the  sentry's 
warning. 

I  told  the  drivers  to  allow  a  good  space  between 
each  wagon  and  to  cross  at  a  brisk  trot,  whipping 
up  their  horses  and  galloping  as  rapidly  as  pos- 
sible to  the  other  side  if  we  were  shelled. 

We  were  half-way  across  and  I  was  congratu- 
lating myself  on  our  good  fortune  when  I  heard 
a  warning  screech  in  the  air  as  a  shell  passed  over 
our  heads.  It  burst  with  a  loud  report,  throw- 
ing up  a  fountain  of  black  smoke  and  dirt  in  a 
field  about  four  hundred  yards  beyond,  and  the 


THROUGH  SHOWER  OF  SHELLS    151 

drivers  whipped  up  their  horses  and  galloped  for 
dear  Hfe,  the  little  two-wheeled  ambulances  bounc- 
ing over  the  frozen  road. 

The  travelling  kitchen  was  not  so  fortunate.  It 
was  very  heavy  and  the  horses  could  move  only 
at  a  trot.  The  drivers  yelled  as  only  Russian 
drivers  can  and  waved  their  long  whips  In  the  air 
but  the  horses  needed  no  urging  when  a  second 
shell  came  in  with  a  whiz-bang! — this  time  only 
two  hundred  yards  beyond  the  road.  Then  a 
yellow  puff  of  smoke  appeared  In  the  air  ahead 
and  a  shrapnel  shell  coughed  out  its  pellets,  mak- 
ing the  snow  fly  up  in  little  spurts  in  the  field  just 
beyond  the  road. 

We  were  flying  along  at  this  time  and  several 
more  high  explosives  came  over,  but  all  burst  be- 
yond the  road.  We  galloped  behind  a  little  rise 
of  ground  which  hid  us  from  the  view  of  the 
German  observer  and  we  had  no  more  shells  for 
a  couple  of  minutes.  When  we  emerged  from  the 
little  knoll,  however,  the  Germans  were  waiting 
for  us  and  a  shell  screeched  down  and  burst  not 
a  hundred  feet  ahead  of  my  horse.  I  crouched 
low  on  the  horse's  neck,  expecting  to  be  hit,  but 
nothing  happened.  Another  hundred  yards  and 
we  were  safely  In  the  forest.     The  wagons  came 


152  SURGEON  GROW 

bouncing  in  under  the  trees  and  the  drivers 
laughed  excitedly,  but  I  noticed  that  the  faces  of 
many  of  them  were  pale.     I  am  sure  mine  was. 

That  evening  we  hastily  set  up  our  dressing 
station.  The  small  tents  for  the  advance  dressing 
station  were  placed  in  the  forest  about  a  hundred 
yards  back  of  the  first  line  trenches.  We  covered 
them  completely  with  the  branches  of  pine-trees 
to  hide  them  from  the  Germans.  We  placed  the 
large  tent  a  third  of  a  mile  back  along  the  road, 
near  the  old  Colonel's  battery.  This  was  to  be 
the  main  dressing  station  where  the  ambulances 
would  meet  the  stretcher-bearers  when  they  car- 
ried the  wounded  back  from  the  advance  dressing 
station.  Horses  and  ambulances  were  parked 
under  the  trees  near  the  main  dressing  station. 
We  had  a  little  charcoal  stove  in  each  tent.  Wood 
could  not  be  used,  as  the  smoke  would  have  at- 
tracted German  fire. 

The  night  of  the  fifth  of  March  was  intensely 
cold.  A  foot  of  snow  covered  the  ground.  The 
troops  who  were  billeted  in  the  forest  in  reserve, 
however,  had  no  tents  and  had  to  sleep  in  the 
snow,  for  there  were  few  dug-outs  on  account  of 
the  marshy  nature  of  the  ground.  Most  of  them 
had  to  be  content  with  shelters  built  of  brush  to 


THROUGH  SHOWER  OF  SHELLS     153 

shield  them  from  the  biting  wind  where,  without 
blankets,  they  sat  about,  crouched  over  little  char- 
coal fires  In  the  snow. 

The  Russian  soldier  Is  not  provided  with  a 
blanket — his  overcoat  of  medium-weight  having 
to  serve  instead.  He  has  underwear  of  cotton 
musHn.  This,  with  a  pair  of  heavy  trousers  and 
a  fairly  heavy  shirt,  or  ruboshka,  is  all  he  has  to 
protect  him  from  the  biting  cold  of  an  almost 
arctic  climate. 

Despite  their  sufferings,  the  soldiers  In  reserve 
were  extremely  patient.  Not  a  complaint  was 
heard.  Were  they  not  going  to  break  through  the 
German  lines  and  drive  the  invader  out  of  Holy 
Russia? 

They  sat  about  In  little  groups  singing  softly, 
for  the  Germans  must  not  hear  them,  huddled 
close  together  for  warmth.  Some  were  drying 
out  their  foot-gear,  holding  over  the  glowing  em- 
bers of  their  fires  the  long  strips  of  cloth  which 
they  use  in  place  of  socks. 

I  felt  sorry  for  them  at  first  because  they  had 
no  socks  and  asked  one  old  bearded  stretcher- 
bearer  who  was  engaged  in  the  drying-out  process 
If  his  feet  did  not  become  cold  without  socks. 

"We  don't  hke  socks,"  he  replied.     "We  wrap 


154  SURGEON  GROW 

this  long  cloth  around  the  foot  and  leg  and  then 
slide  into  our  boots.  When  the  foot  becomes  wet 
we  turn  the  cloth  end  for  end,  wrapping  the  wet 
part  around  the  leg,  where  it  dries  quickly,  while 
the  dry  end  is  wrapped  around  the  foot  and  L:z'^:^ 
it  warm." 

I  have  since  learned  that  the  German  soldiers 
have  in  many  instances  abandoned  the  sock  for 
this  more  primitive  but  sensible  article. 

That  night  I  slept  in  the  main  dressing  station 
on  a  pallet  of  fresh  pine  boughs,  wrapped  up  in 
my  sleeping  bag.  As  I  went  to  sleep  I  heard  the 
Colonel's  old  graphophone  grinding  out  the  strains 
of  the  Berceuse  from  Joselyn,  punctuated  at  cer- 
tain points  by  an  ear-splitting  crash  from  one  of 
his  three-inchers  and  the  drone  of  a  shell  over- 
head as  he  sent  the  Nemets  a  good-night  message. 


CHAPTER  Xlir 

THE  BATTLE  OF  POSTOVY 

/^  N  March  6th,  at  nine  o'clock  In  the  morning, 
^^^  our  artillery  opened  up  a  terrific  fire  on  the 
German  barbed  wire,  fire-line  trenches,  and  such 
batteries  as  had  been  spotted  by  our  aeroplanes. 

I  went  down  into  our  first-line  trenches,  which 
were  half  filled  with  Icy  snow  and  muddy  water; 
coming  up  almost  to  my  knees,  and  peered  out 
through  a  loophole  toward  the  German  trenches. 
The  black  line  of  forest  along  which  his  first  line 
ran  was  almost  hidden  by  spurting  clouds  of  smoke 
and  dirt.  A  gray  haze  simply  hid  them  from 
view  where  the  high  explosive  shells  tore  up 
barbed  wire  and  trench  parapets. 

The  crashing  of  our  guns  was  incessant,  pro- 
ducing the  sound  known  as  "drum-fire,"  and  the 
shells  screeched  and  hummed  overhead  In  a  steady 
procession.  The  German  batteries  were  replying, 
firing  principally  on  our  batteries  and  the  reserve 

155 


156  SURGEON  GROW 

positions,  where  the  troops  were  lying  in  the  for- 
est unprotected  by  trenches. 

Occasionally  machine-guns  and  rifles  would 
burst  forth  in  a  crackling  volley  as  they  became 
nervous,  but  most  of  the  time  the  rifle  fire 
amounted  only  to  the  isolated  shots  of  snipers. 

I  went  to  one  of  our  advance  dressing  stations 
where  a  few  wounded  men  struck  by  shrapnel  were 
coming  in  from  the  reserve  positions  and  were 
being  bandaged  and  sent  to  the  main  dressing  sta- 
tion, the  heavily  wounded  being  carried  by  our 
orderlies  on  stretchers,  where  they  met  the  ambu- 
lances and  were  conveyed  to  the  division  hospital 
six  miles  in  the  rear. 

The  work  was  being  carried  on  here  satisfac- 
torily, and  I  started  for  the  other  dressing  station 
a  few  hundred  yards  away  in  the  forest.  I  was 
passing  a  huge  pine-tree  when  I  heard  a  voice 
from  far  overhead,  faint  above  the  roar  of  artil- 
lery, crying:    "Meester!    Meester!" 

I  looked  up,  and  high  up  in  the  topmost 
branches,  screened  by  the  thick  boughs,  I  made 
out  an  artillery  officer  perched  on  a  little  scaffold- 
ing nailed  to  the  tree.  He  held  a  field  telephone 
In  his  hand.  The  wires  ran  down  the  tree  and 
off  to. the  rear  towards  his  battery.     He  was  an 


THE  BATTLE  OF  POSTOVY       157 

observer,  spotting  the  hits  of  the  shells  from  his 
battery  and  correcting  the  range  of  the  guns  from 
his  lofty  perch.  It  was  the  same  young  officer 
whom  I  had  seen  in  the  observation  point  in  the 
trenches  on  my  first  visit  to  them — ^the  one  who 
was  so  anxious  to  get  the  Boches  who  were  fleeing 
from  the  old  building  in  No  Man's  Land. 

He  leaned  far  out  from  his  dizzy  perch,  his 
face  showing  white  against  the  dark  foliage  of 
the  trees,  and  cupping  his  hands  to  his  mouth, 
shouted  down  to  me :  "Will  you  send  an  orderly 
up  to  me  with  a  pail  of  hot  tea  ?  I  am  very  cold 
up " 

A  strange,  awful  change  came  over  his  coun- 
tenance. As  though  by  magic,  a  tiny  dark  spot 
appeared  on  his  forehead  just  above  his  right  eye 
— like  the  dark  spot  which  appears  on  the  white 
surface  of  a  target  in  a  shooting-gallery  after  the 
crack  of  a  rifle.  His  lower  jaw  dropped,  he 
grinned  hideously  down  at  me  and  then,  very 
slowly,  he  began  to  sway  forward.  His  arms 
dropped,  the  field  telephone  fell  from  his  hands 
and  hung  dangling  by  its  wire,  and  his  body 
pitched  forward  off  his  seat  and  came  crashing 
down  through  the  branches,  bouncing  as  it  hit  the 


158  SURGEON  GROW 

thick  limbs,  inert  and  limp  as  a  bag  of  meal,  and 
fell  with  a  sickening  thud  at  my  feet. 

I  lifted  the  head,  turning  it  so  that  I  could  see 
the  face.  It  was  crimson  with  blood  pouring  from 
the  small  dark  hole  just  above  the  eyebrow.  A 
bullet,  possibly  a  wild  bullet  or  one  from  the  rifle 
of  a  sniper  who  had  seen  him  through  binoculars, 
had  killed  him  instantly.  That  evening  they 
buried  him  in  the  forest  near  the  dressing  station. 

The  artillery  kept  up  its  fire  and  we  expected 
it  to  continue  until  the  next  day.  We  decided  that 
the  Germans  had  been  one  day  wrong  in  their 
prediction  and  we  felt  sure  the  artillery  would 
spend  at  least  eighteen  hours  in  destroying  the 
German  barbed  wire  and  machine-gun  emplace- 
ments. 

About  mid-day,  however,  we  were  astonished 
to  receive  word  that  the  troops  would  go  over  the 
top  at  three  that  afternoon.  The  Germans  were 
correct  after  all!  More  amazing  to  us  than  the 
accuracy  of  the  German  prediction  was  the  fact 
that  the  Russian  general  staff  had  not  changed  the 
date  of  the  attack  after  these  notices  had  been 
dropped  by  the  Germans. 

That  only  six  hours'  artillery  preparation  was 
ordered  was  also  surprising  to  us,  and  many  of 


THE  BATTLE  OF  POSTOVY       159 

the  younger  officers  predicted  that  our  troops 
would  run  their  heads  into  a  stone  wall. 

The  German  shrapnel  was  bursting  over  the 
trees  and  the  H  E  shells  were  tearing  things  up 
as  I  made  my  way  cautiously  into  the  first  line 
trenches  about  2  130  p.  M.  The  trenches  were  full 
of  soldiers  crouched  down  below  the  low  parapets 
up  to  their  knees  in  icy  water  and  mud,  waiting 
for  the  signal  to  go  over  the  top. 

I  found  Lieutenant  Muhanoff  with  his  company. 
He  was  smoking  a  cigarette  and  did  not  appear 
at  all  nervous  at  the  impending  action. 

"We  will  just  walk  over  and  take  the  first 
couple  of  lines,"  he  declared  confidently.  "Look 
at  that  artillery  tearing  them  up.  There  won't 
be  a  man  left  in  that  trench,"  and  through  a  loop- 
hole we  could  see  that  their  first  line  was  a  welter 
of  flying  smoke  and  dirt. 

"I  have  here  in  this  packet  some  money  and  a 
ring  which  belonged  to  my  father,"  he  said,  hand- 
ing me  a  sealed  and  addressed  paper  package. 
"Will  you  see  that  it  gets  to  my  mother  in  Smo- 
lensk in  case  I  don't  come  back?" 

'T^onsense !"  I  exclaimed.  "Of  course  you  will 
come  back!  But  I'll  take  the  package  and  see  that 
your  mother  receives  it  if  you  don't." 


i6o  SURGEON  GROW 

"Thank  you,  dear  friend,"  he  replied.  "And 
now,  good-bye !  It  is  two  minutes  of  three  and  I 
must  get  my  men  up,  ready  to  go  over." 

He  walked  away  and  spoke  quietly  to  his  men, 
where  they  sat  about  In  little  groups  on  the  fire- 
step  of  the  trench.  He  was  beloved  by  all  his 
soldiers  and  as  they  lined  up  along  the  trench  wall 
I  felt  that  they  would  follow  him  to  hell  if  neces- 
sary. 

A  shrill  whistle  sounded  up  and  down  the  trench 
and  they  swarmed  up  the  little  ladders  and  ran, 
stooping  low,  through  the  passages  cut  In  the 
barbed  wire.  Lieutenant  Muhanoff  gaily  waved 
his  hand  to  me  as  he  leaped  on  the  parapet.  Long 
brown  lines  of  men  advancing  In  successive  waves 
went  quickly  across  the  snow-covered  field  with 
loud  "Hurrahs!"  their  bayonets  flashing  in  the 
setting  sun. 

They  were  hardly  over  the  top  when  the  Ger- 
man machine-guns  and  rifles  turned  a  withering 
fire  on  them,  the  machine-guns  hammering  and  the 
rifles  crackling. 

Across  the  flat,  white  field  they  went,  and  every 
here  and  there  a  man  would  go  down  sprawHng 
in  the  snow.  The  German  barrage  fire  appeared 
as  a  haze  of  whirling  smoke  and  dirt,  partly  hid- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  POSTOVY       161 

ing  them  as  they  went  through  it,  and  the  earth 
shook  with  the  violence  of  the  explosions.  The 
sprawHng  forms  were  like  the  foam  that  a  reced- 
ing wave  leaves  on  the  sand  as  it  sweeps  back  to 
its  parent  sea.  Many  came  running  or  crawling 
back  with  all  manner  of  wounds,  as  the  advancing 
line  became  lost  to  sight  In  the  tumbling,  rolling 
fog  of  the  barrage;  but  No  Man's  Land  was 
covered  with  men  who  would  never  move  again. 

I  hurried  back  to  the  dressing  station,  for  I 
knew  there  would  be  much  work  to  do.  Rumors 
reached  us  there  as  we  worked — wild  stories  told 
by  the  wounded.  Some  said  we  had  broken 
through  the  German  defense,  others  that  we  had 
captured  four  lines  of  their  trenches,  while  still 
others  insisted  that  we  had  not  even  taken  the 
first  line  trench,  our  attack  having  broken  down 
and  our  men  having  been  forced  to  retreat. 

The  latter  report  proved  to  be  the  correct  one, 
much  to  our  sorrow. 

The  firing  quieted  down  shghtly  and  Lieutenant 
Muhanoff  came  to  the  tent  where  I  was  wading 
about  in  a  sea  of  wrecked  humanity — a  groaning, 
writhing  sea  lying  there  on  the  snow — working 
hurriedly  to   patch   them  up   for  the   stretcher- 


i62  SURGEON  GROW 

bearers  to  carry  back  to  the  main  dressing  station 
where  the  ambulances  were. 

The  Lieutenant  looked  as  if  he  had  been  in  a 
prize  fight.  His  face  was  swollen  and  discolored, 
his  glasses  were  gone,  one  eye  was  nearly  closed, 
a  cut  gaped  on  his  forehead,  and  his  clothing  was 
torn  and  bloody. 

"What's  the  matter?  Have  you  been  boxing?" 
I  asked. 

"Yes;  that's  just  about  what  you  would  call  It. 
When  we  got  over  to  their  first  line,  there  was 
hardly  a  German  in  it — only  machine-gun  crews 
and  a  few  rifle  men,  and  what  was  left  of  my  com- 
pany quickly  disposed  of  them  with  the  bayonet. 
I  started  for  the  second  line  when  I  saw  that  we 
had  easily  won  the  first  line,  thinking  that  my  men 
were  following  me.  When  I  mounted  the  parapet 
of  their  support-trench,  I  saw  it  was  full  of  Ger- 
mans, but  I  jumped  in,  firing  my  revolver  as  I 
leaped,  and  then  I  realized  for  the  first  time  that 
I  was  alone ! 

"There  were  about  fifteen  Germans  in  that  par- 
ticular sector  of  the  trench  and  they  jumped  on  me 
without  any  ceremony.  One  big  fellow  knocked 
me  down  with  a  blow  from  his  rifle  and  the  rest 
piled  on  me,  pinning  me  to  the  ground  and  pum- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  POSTOVY       163 

meling  me  with  their  fists,  for  the  confusion  was 
so  great  and  the  trench  was  so  close-packed  that 
they  could  not  use  their  bayonets. 

"I  thought  I  was  gone,  when  over  the  parapet 
leaped  ten  of  my  Siberians.  They  went  at  those 
Germans  with  their  bayonets  as  well  as  they  could, 
but  the  fighting  was  so  close  that  it  was  more  like 
an  ordinary  bar-room  brawl,  and  after  a  great 
deal  of  hammer  and  tongs  fighting,  six  of  us  finally 
broke  loose  and  started  back  to  the  first  line 
trench ;  but  only  four  got  back  here,  the  other  two 
being  killed  by  machine-gun  fire  enroute." 

"How  about  the  four  others  that  jumped  into 
the  trench?"  I  asked. 

"They  were  killed  right  there!" 

"And  how  many  Germans  did  you  fellows  ac- 
count for?" 

"I  don't  know  exactly.  They  lay  around  pretty 
thick,  but  some  of  them  ran  up  the  trench  when 
my  soldiers  came  over:  they  don't  like  our  long 
bayonets." 

"How  did  your  men  know  you  were  in  danger?" 

"One  of  them  had  seen  me  disappear  over  the 
parapet  and  thought  I  had  been  taken  prisoner. 
He  got  nine  of  his  comrades  together  and  they 
charged  the  trench  to  rescue  me.    It  was  a  pretty 


i64  SURGEON  GROW 

brave  thing  to  do,  for  they  did  not  know  how 
many  Germans  were  there.  The  attack  has  been 
a  failure,  however.  Of  my  company  of  two  hun- 
dred men,  only  forty  got  back  uninjured  when  we 
got  the  order  to  give  up  the  captured  line  and 
retire.  We  were  undoubtedly  betrayed  in  this  at- 
tack. The  enemy  had  hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
machine-guns  in  that  first  line  all  ready  and  wait- 
ing for  us !" 

He  was  greatly  discouraged  and  downcast  as  I 
bound  up  the  cut  on  his  forehead. 

All  that  evening  our  artillery  kept  pounding 
away  and  reserve  troops  were  brought  up  to  re- 
place the  shattered  regiments  who  had  been  in  the 
attack  in  the  afternoon.  They  had  suffered  fright- 
ful losses.  One  regiment  which  had  had  four 
thousand  men  only  a  few  hours  before  now  had 
only  about  eight  hundred! 

I  went  back  to  the  main  dressing  station,  which 
was  swamped  with  wounded.  Our  forty  ambu- 
lances, which  could  carry  only  two  wounded  lying 
down  or  four  sitting  up,  were  inadequate  for  the 
task  of  carrying  them  all  back  to  the  division  hos- 
pital. The  roads  were  frightful  and  the  drivers 
had  to  walk  their  horses  the  entire  distance,  for 
even  when  they  went  slowly  and  carefully  the  suf- 


-^iiii 

1' Jr^l'P 

IlipifcV'.''  ^,  -/-^"^ 

•,?>■ 

^ 

Wounded  men  arriving  in  crude  two-wheeled  ambulance,  the  best  con- 
veyance known  on  the  Russian  front.     The  scarcity  of  even  these  was 
so  great  that  often  the  wounded  lay  for  from  i6  to  24  hours  in  the  snow 
before  they  could  be  moved. 


Surgeon  Grow  at  the  battle  of  Postovy,  loading  wounded  into  a  little 
two-wheeled  cart  which  served  as  ambulance. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  POSTOVY       165 

ferlng  of  the  wounded  as  they  bounced  about  in 
those  rough  carts  was  terrible. 

Their  route  along  the  road  was  accompanied 
by  heart-rending  cries  of  agony  which  could  be 
heard  several  hundred  yards  from  the  roadside. 
The  cold  was  intense,  and  as  our  tent  could  not 
accommodate  all  the  wounded,  many  had  to  lie 
In  the  snow  wrapped  in  such  poor  blankets  as  we 
could  supply.  At  times  there  were  as  many  as  a 
hundred  lying  in  the  snow  outside  the  tent,  many 
of  them  having  only  their  wet  overcoats  to  pro- 
tect them  against  the  cold ! 

During  the  evening,  I  had  a  great  many  emer- 
gency operations  to  do.  I  was  operating  on  one 
poor  fellow  who  had  had  a  leg  completely  torn 
off  by  a  shell  fragment.  Bright  red  streams  of 
blood  were  spurting  from  several  arteries  in  the 
torn  stump  and  it  was  necessary  to  catch  the  bleed- 
ing vessels  with  delicate  forceps  and  tie  them  up 
with  strands  of  catgut.  Great  haste  and  a  steady 
hand  were  necessary  to  complete  the  work  in  time 
to  save  his  life.  He  was  lying  on  the  raised 
stretcher  which  served  as  an  operating  table  and 
Nicholi  was  giving  ether.  Metia  was  in  one  of 
the  advance  dressing  stations.  I  had  no  other 
trained  assistants. 


i66  SURGEON  GROW 

A  new  orderly,  who  had  been  in  the  army  only 
a  few  days  before  this  big  fight  and  who  had  never 
been  under  shell  fire,  was  holding  a  candle  so  that 
I  could  see  to  catch  the  elusive  arteries  with  the 
forceps.  We  could  use  no  other  light  for  fear  it 
would  attract  the  attention  of  the  enemy  and  bring 
a  shower  of  shells  from  their  artillery  on  the  many 
wounded  who  lay  about  the  tent. 

Arteries  are  elastic  and  when  cut  recede  into 
the  tissues  as  if  they  were  made  of  rubber.  It  was 
diflScult  to  find  them  in  the  flickering  light  of  the 
candle,  and  the  life  blood  of  the  soldier,  whose 
pulse  I  could  scarcely  feel,  was  fast  ebbing  away. 
Those  bleeding  points  had  to  be  stopped  at  once 
or  he  would  diCc 

I  was  trying  desperately  to  catch  one  of  the 
arteries  which  was  throwing  a  bright  red  jet  of 
blood  into  my  face  as  I  leaned  over  when  I  heard 
the  screeching  approach  of  a  German  shell.  It 
seemed  to  be  coming  straight  down  on  the  tent — 
one  of  those  big  howitzer  shells  with  a  high  trajec- 
tory coming  from  far  up  in  the  sky.  I  could  hear 
it  for  a  long  time — at  least  it  seemed  a  long  time 
although  in  reality  only  a  matter  of  seconds. 

The  new  orderly  heard  it  too  and  his  hand 
began  to  shake.     The  nearer  the  shell  came  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  POSTOVY       167 

worse  it  shook,  and  when  the  shell  exploded  close 
to  the  tent  and  great  jagged  pieces  came  hum- 
ming and  tearing  their  way  through  the  canvas 
above  our  heads,  he  gave  a  convulsive  shudder 
and  dropped  the  candle  and  we  were  in  darkness. 

I  called  sharply  for  a  light  and  he  fumbled 
around  and  found  a  match  and  got  the  candle 
going  again.  All  the  time  the  wounded  man  was 
bleeding  furiously. 

The  orderly  was  a  great  hulking  fellow,  well 
over  six  feet  in  height,  and  he  must  have  weighed 
two  hundred  and  forty  pounds. 

I  had  found  several  of  those  large  bleeders  and 
tied  them  when  I  heard  another  of  those  Infernal 
shells  coming  again.  Once  more  the  candle 
started  to  shake  and  once  more  we  were  in  dark- 
ness when  the  shell  burst.  My  nerves  were  now 
gone  with  the  effort  of  controlling  my  own  hands 
and  keeping  them  from  trembling,  for  the  work 
was  so  fine  that  a  tremor  would  have  defeated  my 
purpose.  I  was  badly  frightened  myself  and  it 
was  only  by  a  great  effort  that  I  kept  my  hands 
steady.  The  second  shell  had  hit  so  close  that 
the  tent  rocked  with  the  concussion  and  cold  air 
was  pouring  in  through  numerous  jagged  'rents. 

I  dismissed  the  orderly  and  shouted  for  Michael 


i68  SURGEON  GROW 

to  come  in.  He  was  outside,  helping  to  load 
wounded  Into  the  ambulances.  Mike  proved  to 
be  more  hardened  and  when  the  next  shell  came 
in  we  at  least  had  light  to  work  by.  We  finally- 
checked  the  bleeding  and  started  the  wounded  man 
back  for  the  divisional  hospital,  well  wrapped  In 
blankets,  with  enough  of  the  precious  life-blood 
In  his  body  to  keep  him  going  till  he  reached  the 
point  where  further  restorative  measures  could  be 
applied. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  DOGS  OF  WAR 

^T^HE  big  German  guns  were  shelling  the  Col- 
^  onel's  double  battery,  which,  as  I  have  men- 
tioned, was  located  very  near  our  tent.  They 
were  unable  to  silence  either  the  battery  or  the 
Colonel,  for  I  could  hear  his  voice  bawling  out 
orders  to  his  men  above  the  roar  of  hundreds  of 
guns  and  the  screech  of  flying  shells.  Sometimes 
he  would  let  go  with  his  entire  sixteen  guns  simul- 
taneously. At  other  times  he  would  fire  them  one 
after  the  other  in  rapid  succession. 

The  muzzles  of  the  guns  were  pointed  directly 
at  our  tent,  the  shells  flying  not  a  hundred  feet 
above  our  ridge-pole,  and  when  he  fired  a  salvo 
the  tent-wall  would  actually  bulge  in  on  the  side 
toward  the  battery,  candles  would  be  extinguished, 
and  my  head,  which  was  splitting  from  the  noise, 
would  rock  from  the  concussion. 

The  wounded  who  were  now  brought  in  by  our 
169 


170  SURGEON  GROW 

bearers  were  In  frightful  condition.  They  were 
the  heavily  wounded  who  had  been  lying  In  the 
snow  In  No  Man's  Land  unable  to  move.  There 
were  many  abdominal  and  brain  wounds  and  all 
of  them  were  nearly  frozen  from  the  cold. 

As  night  came  on,  our  bearers  would  crawl  cau- 
tiously out  between  the  lines  and  search  in  the 
darkness  for  these  poor  fellows.  Occasionally  a 
German  machine-gun  would  break  forth  In  a 
spasm  of  firing.  This  meant  that  they  had  de- 
tected a  searching  party  and  had  turned  a  ma- 
chine-gun on  them,  or,  in  the  flare  of  a  rocket, 
they  had  seen  some  wounded  Russian  dragging 
himself  painfully  over  the  snow.  They  take  no 
chances  In  allowing  wounded  to  get  back  to  their 
own  lines. 

We  had  with  us  three  Airedale  terriers.  They 
were  trained  to  locate  the  wounded  in  thickets  and 
brushy  places  where  they  could  not  be  seen  by  our 
searching  parties,  who,  for  obvious  reasons,  can- 
not carry  any  light. 

About  two  o'clock  we  received  word  that  a 
wounded  man  had  managed  to  crawl  In  from  be- 
tween the  lines  and  had  reported  that  some  badly 
wounded  soldiers  were  lying  In  a  thicket  and  were 
perishing  In  the  cold.     He  had  passed  several  of 


THE  DOGS  OF  WAR  171 

them  as  he  crawled  painfully  by.  They  were  too 
weak  to  move  but  displayed  signs  of  life. 

I  summoned  the  three  orderlies  who  had  charge 
of  the  dogs,  and,  taking  twelve  stretcher-bearers, 
hurried  to  our  trenches  opposite  the  point  indi- 
cated. The  weather  had  moderated  slightly  and 
the  snow  was  melting  a  little,  but  it  was  one  of 
those  damp,  penetrating  nights  when  the  cold 
seems  to  go  right  through  to  the  bone. 

As  we  splashed  through  a  communication 
trench,  the  dogs  tugging  at  their  leashes,  I  thought 
of  those  poor  devils  lying  out  there,  suffering  all 
kinds  of  anguish  and  without  any  hope  of  being 
rescued. 

It  was  as  dark  as  a  pit  as  we  entered  the  first- 
line  trenches.  They  were  full  of  soldiers  sitting 
about  shivering  in  the  cold  and  waiting  for  the 
next  order  to  attack. 

In  the  occasional  flicker  of  a  rocket  I  could 
make  out,  half-way  between  our  trenches  and  the 
Germans',  a  dark  patch  of  scrubby  weeds  and 
stunted  bushes.  In  this  little  thicket  lay  the 
wounded. 

The  orderlies  who  had  charge  of  the  dogs  lifted 
them  up  on  the  parapet,  unsnapped  their  leashes, 
and  spoke  a  sharp  word  of  command:  "Begone!" 


172  SURGEON  GROW 

The  dogs  disappeared  in  the  darkness  of  No 
Man's  Land  and  were  gone  for  quite  a  long  time. 
I  thought  at  first  that  they  must  have  gone  astray 
or  that  one  of  those  scattering  volleys  from  the 
German  trenches  had  ended  their  mission  of 
rescue. 

Tang! 

Something  in  our  entanglements  had  struck  a 
projecting  piece  of  wire  directly  in  front  of  me. 
A  rocket  shot  up,  and  over  the  parapet  a  yard  to 
my  right  I  saw  a  shaggy  head  peering  down.  The 
dog  held  something  In  his  mouth.  I  heard  him 
whine  softly.  One  of  the  orderlies  reached  up 
to  get  him  and  he  snarled  savagely  and  jumped 
back.  It  was  not  his  master  and  he  was  trained 
when  on  duty  to  keep  away  from  any  other  person. 

Another  orderly  stepped  up  on  the  flrestep  and 
spoke  to  him,  and  he  whimpered  softly  and  came 
to  his  master,  who  lifted  him  down. 

In  the  light  of  my  electric  torch  I  saw  that  he 
held  In  his  mouth  a  crumpled,  blood-stained  cap. 
His  master  took  the  cap  In  his  hand,  snapped  the 
leash  on  the  dog's  collar,  lifted  him  up  on  the 
parapet  and  crawled  up  after  him,  followed  by 
two  stretcher-bearers. 

The  dog  led  them  out  through  the  barbed  wire, 


THE  DOGS  OF  WAR  173 

tugging  at  his  leash,  and  I  followed  the  little  party, 
curious  to  see  whether  he  would  find  the  owner 
of  that  cap. 

I  could  distinguish  their  dim  forms  as  they 
crawled  on  hands  and  knees,  dragging  the  rolled- 
up  stretcher  after  them.  I  followed,  also  crawl- 
ing, and  when  a  rocket  soared  up  and  cast  Its 
ghostly  light  over  the  field,  we  all  "froze,"  lying 
perfectly  flat  In  the  snow  until  the  light  died  out. 

I  heard  the  dry  grass  crackle  as  they  wormed 
their  way  into  the  thicket  and  I  thought  that  we 
must  be  very  close  to  the  German  lines.  Several 
bullets  struck  the  weeds  about  me. 

My  hand  touched  something  which  felt  like  a 
piece  of  woolen  cloth  in  the  weeds  and  I  saw  a 
dark  object  lying  partly  concealed  in  the  thicket. 
I  reached  out  and  felt  a  human  arm — it  was  hard 
and  stiff  and  the  clutched  hand  was  icy.  I  tried 
to  move  the  arm,  but  It  was  rigid  and  I  knew  that 
there  was  no  life  in  that  cold  body. 

I  crawled  hurriedly  on  through  the  bush  and 
found  the  little  party  kneeling  about  another  dark 
object  sprawled  in  the  snow.  The  body  was  still 
warm  but  the  hands  were  very  cold  and  at  the 
wrist  I  could  feel  only  a  tiny  trickle  of  pulse.  I 
passed  my  hand  up  to  his  head.     The  cap  was 


174  SURGEON  GROW 

gone  and  the  hair  was  stiff  and  matted  with  frozen 
blood,  but  just  above  the  ear  I  felt  a  warm  moist 
spot.  I  knew  that  this  was  the  wounded  point 
and  that  the  fresh  blood  was  oozing  forth.  The 
bullet  had  entered  the  brain  and  the  soldier  was 
unconscious,  but  it  was  evidently  the  man  whose 
cap  the  dog  had  brought  to  our  trenches. 

One  of  the  orderlies  had  a  first  aid  kit,  and  we 
hurriedly  put  on  a  dressing  to  keep  the  dirt  out. 
We  slid  him  on  to  the  stretcher  and  started  back, 
crawling  and  dragging  the  stretcher  after  us. 

Our  progress  was  necessarily  very  slow,  for 
with  each  rocket  we  had  to  lie  quiet.  The  Ger- 
man trenches  were  not  more  than  forty  yards 
away.  Finally,  however,  we  reached  our  wire  and 
passed  through  one  of  the  lanes  which  had  been 
cut  to  let  the  attacking  waves  through. 

The  stretcher  was  carefully  passed  down  to 
waiting  hands  below,  and  the  wounded  man 
wrapped  in  blankets,  and  we  started  back  for  the 
dressing  station. 

I  learned  that  the  other  two  dogs  had  returned 
in  the  meantime,  one  with  a  cap  and  the  other 
with  a  piece  of  cloth  ripped  by  his  fangs  from  a 
wounded  man's  overcoat.  The  dogs  are  trained 
to  tear  something  from  the  soldier's  garments  if 


Sanitary  dogs,  or  dogs  of  war.     They  were  trained  to  search  for  the 
wounded  and  guide  rescuers  to  them. 


This  war  dog  has  located  a  wounded  man  and  is  taking  his  hat  as  iden- 
tification and  means  of  bringing  aid. 


THE  DOGS  OF  WAR  175 

they  cannot  find  a  cap  or  glove.  Whatever  the 
dog  brings  back  is  used  to  refresh  its  memory 
when  the  rescue  party  starts  after  the  wounded 
man,  the  orderly  passing  it  across  the  animal's 
nose  whenever  he  falters. 

One  of  the  rescue  parties  returned  with  an  ab- 
dominal case,  a  bad  one,  so  weak  that  I  could 
scarcely  detect  a  sign  of  life. 

"Do  the  dogs  ever  take  you  to  dead  bodies?" 
I  asked  the  orderly. 

"No,  Excellency,  never,"  he  replied.  "They 
sometimes  lead  us  to  bodies  which  we  think  have 
no  life  in  them,  but  when  we  bring  them  back  the 
doctors,  by  careful  examination,  always  find  a 
spark  though  often  very  feeble.  It  is  purely  a 
matter  of  instinct,  which,  in  this  instance,  is  far 
more  effective  than  man's  reasoning  powers." 

Presently  a  third  party  returned  with  a  man 
with  a  broken  thigh.  He  was  almost  lifeles  from 
exposure  and  shock. 

So  the  work  went  on  until  we  had  recovered 
fourteen  wounded.  Then  one  of  the  dogs  re- 
turned without  anything  in  his  mouth.  He  was 
sent  back  again  and  while  he  was  gone  another 
returned,  also  without  any  "evidence,"  When, 
after  a  little  while,   all   three   dogs   stuck  their 


176  SURGEON  GROW 

shaggy  heads  over  the  parapet  with  nothing  in 
their  mouths  we  were  tolerably  sure  that  there 
were  no  more  wounded  Russians  in  the  thicket. 

By  that  time  the  first  gray  light  of  dawn  was 
struggling  to  dispel  the  night.  As  I  went  back  to 
the  main  dressing  station  through  the  ghostly  for- 
est, our  artillery  was  pounding  furiously  at  the 
German  lines.  Then  came  the  infernal  crackle  of 
rifles  and  the  tack!  tack!  of  machine-guns  and  the 
flickering  of  rockets  as  another  wave  of  our  in- 
fantry went  over  the  top  in  a  second  desperate 
attack  to  break  the  German  lines.  As  I  pictured 
the  inrush  of  the  flowing  stream  of  wounded  pour- 
ing down  the  road  through  the  forest  to  our  dress- 
ing stations,  I  realized  that  there  would  be  little 
rest  for  me  that  day. 


CHAPTER  XV 

SOUND  SLEEPERS 

T?  VENTS  of  that  day  are  blurred  in  my  mind. 
'^  I  was  so  tired  that  the  only  impression  I  re- 
tained was  of  an  apparently  endles  round  of  work. 
Wounded,  wounded,  and*then  more  wounded !  I 
have  a  dim  picture  of  them  lying  patiently  in  the 
tent,  which  was  soon  overflowing,  and  a  perfect 
sea  of  them  in  the  wet  snow  outside.  It  was  a 
case  of  plodding  through  operations  with  dogged 
perseverance — here  a  hurried  amputation,  there  a 
brain  operation  or  an  abdominal  section — ort  and 
on  without  end.  In  a  night's  work  of  that  de- 
scription, a  man  performs  more  operations  and 
treats  more  cases  than  the  busiest  practitioner  sees 
In  a  month  of  private  practice,  and  while  condi- 
tions work  havoc  with  technique,  such  an  experi- 
ence is  a  wonderful  developer  of  resourcefulness. 
I  remember  hearing  the  same  contradictory  ac- 
counts of  how  our  attack  was  faring  through  the 

177 


178  SURGEON  GROW 

early  morning  mists  and  of  the  final  authoritative 
news  that  we  had  failed  again  and,  after  sustain- 
ing frightful  losses,  had  been  forced  to  give  up  the 
German  first-line  in  the  face  of  a  stiff  counter- 
attack. 

Toward  late  afternoon  we  had  most  of  the 
wounded  attended  to.  Our  poor  ambulance 
horses  were  ready  to  drop.  They  had  been  going 
continuously  for  twenty-four  hours. 

The  old  Colonel  of  the  artillery  dropped  in  to 
see  how  we  were  faring.  His  fur-coat  looked 
like  the  top  of  a  pepper-box  where  it  was  shot  full 
of  holes  from  the  fragments  of  an  HE  shell. 
The  thick  leather  had  checked  the  force  of  the 
little  pieces  of  steel  and  they  had  scarcely  gone 
through  his  inside  clothing. 

"No,  It  didn't  hurt  me,"  the  old  fellow  yelled, 
in  answer  to  my  inquiry,  "but  it  killed  one  of  my 
cows,  damn  them!"  The  curse  evidently  referred 
to  the  Germans,  not  to  the  cows,  for  the  loss  of 
the  one  was  a  sad  blow  to  the  Colonel — so  much 
so.  Indeed,  that  he  mentioned  only  incldently,  as 
he  left  to  go  back  to  his  battei-y,  that  the  same 
shell  had  accounted  for  ten  of  his  men — four 
killed  and  six  wounded! 

"I'll  pound  them  to  pieces  to-night!"  he  yelled. 


SOUND  SLEEPERS  179 

"The  damned  Nemets — I'll  pound  them  to 
pieces!" 

His  battery  certainly  made  enough  noise  to 
pound  anything  to  pieces,  and  I  knew  It  was  no 
use  trying  to  get  any  sleep  In  that  vicinity  that 
night.  As  evening  approached,  therefore,  and 
the  last  of  the  wounded  had  started  on  his  jour- 
ney to  the  divisional  hospital,  I  walked  back  to  a 
group  of  deserted  houses  that  I  knew  of,  leaving 
word  with  Mike  to  call  for  me  If  a  third  attack 
started  or  more  wounded  arrived. 

I  took  a  blanket  with  me,  as  it  promised  to  be 
cold  sleeping  In  an  uninhabited  house.  It  was  just 
getting  dark  when  I  approached  the  peasant's  cot- 
tage near  which  stood  a  barn  and  several  small 
outhouses.  The  cottage  had  been  partly  wrecked 
by  a  German  shell  and  the  thatched  roof  was 
caved  in  and  all  the  windows  were  broken  by  the 
explosion.  It  was  very  desolate  looking  and 
gloomy,  but  at  any  rate  the  noise  was  not  so  bad 
and  I  figured  I  could  get  some  sleep. 

The  barn  looked  a  little  better  than  the  house, 
and  I  thought  I  would  take  a  look  at  It.  I  opened 
the  low  door  and  peered  Into  what  had  formerly 
been  a  storeroom  for  tools  and  farming  utensils. 
It  was  quite  dark  in  there.     The  odor  of  old 


i8o  SURGEON  GROW 

straw  assailed  my  nostrils.  As  I  stepped  In,  my 
foot  sunk  In  a  bed  of  dry  chaff,  and  It  seemed  like 
a  good  place  to  sleep  after  all. 

As  my  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  gloom, 
I  noticed  a  number  of  soldiers  stretched  out  on 
the  straw.  There  were  eight  or  ten  of  them  lying 
about  In  the  postures  that  men  assume  when  thor- 
oughly exhausted.  They  had  thrown  themselves 
down  to  snatch  a  few  hours'  sleep.  I  figured  that 
they  were  too  tired  to  be  easily  awakened,  but  I 
picked  my  way  quietly  between  them,  treading 
softly  on  the  yielding  straw;  and  selecting  an  un- 
occupied spot  between  two  of  the  slumbering 
forms,  I  stretched  out,  rolled  myself  up  in  my 
blanket  and  was  soon  sound  asleep.  The  enor- 
mous amount  of  work  and  the  excitement  of  the 
last  few  days,  combined  with  the  lack  of  sleep, 
had  left  me  pretty  well  exhausted,  and  I  think 
I  would  have  slept  for  the  next  twenty-four  hours 
at  least  If  I  had  not  been  awakened — perhaps  an 
hour  after  I  had  lain  down — by  a  terrific  crash — 
the  smashing  detonation  of  a  shell  close  to  the 
barn. 

I  lay  listening,  startled  by  the  explosion,  and 
was  just  falling  to  sleep  again  when  a  second  shell 
came  screechlne:  down  and  another  crash  shook  the 


SOUND  SLEEPERS  181 

old  barn.  I  wondered  what  would  happen  to  us 
all  if  the  Germans  dropped  a  shell  right  on  the 
bam,  and  just  then  a  third  shell  exploded  and  I 
was  covered  with  a  shower  of  dirt  and  straw,  a 
large  hole  appearing  in  the  roof  of  the  barn  at 
the  farthermost  end  where  the  shell  had  scraped 
the  thatch  of  the  roof  off  as  it  flew  over  and  hit 
in  the  field  beyond. 

Strangely  enough,  the  explosions  had  not  awak- 
ened the  others  or,  if  they  had,  they  had  fallen  off 
to  sleep  again  at  once. 

It  occurred  to  me,  however,  that  the  Germans 
were  now  firing  directly  at  the  barn,  probably  fig- 
uring that  it  was  occupied  by  reserves,  and  that 
the  next  shell  would  probably  finish  all  of  us,  and 
I  decided  that  I  would  clear  out. 

"We  had  better  get  out  of  here  1"  I  yelled  in 
Russian. 

The  soldiers  didn't  budge. 

"Come  on,  now  I"  I  repeated.  "Wake  up, 
Galoopchicks ;  we've  got  to  get  out  of  here  !"  And 
I  reached  out  and  clutched  the  one  nearest  me  by 
the  coat  and  shook  him  and  shouted  in  his  ear. 
Still  he  didn't  budge. 

A  startling  truth  began  to  dawn  on  my  drowsy 
senses.     I  felt  in  my  pocket  for  my  electric  torch 


i82  SURGEON  GROW 

and  flashed  its  white  beam  on  him.  His  face  was 
the  color  of  ashes,  his  eyes  stared  at  me  with  a 
fishy  stare,  his  lips  were  drawn  in  an  awful  grin, 
he  was  dead !  I  turned  the  light  on  the  others — 
dead  I  Every  one  stark  dead!  My  companions 
were  corpses — I  was  sleeping  in  a  mortuary! 

I  could  feel  my  hair  bristle,  and  a  cold  chill  ran 
down  my  spine,  as  I  jumped  up,  leaped  over  sev- 
eral still  forms,  and  bolted  for  the  door. 

As  I  scurried  away,  I  heard  again  the  moaning 
call  approaching  nearer  and  nearer  out  of  the 
inky  sky.  I  crouched  low  as  it  crashed  and  looked 
back  over  my  shoulder.  The  old  barn  was  lit  up 
by  a  hellish  glare  which  revealed  a  whirling  mass 
of  boards  and  smoke  as  it  flew  apart  like  a  pack 
of  cards.  The  last  shell  had  been  a  clean  hit, 
right  into  the  center  of  the  old  structure — in  the 
room  of  the  dead. 

I  hurried  back  to  the  dressing  station,  stum- 
bling along  through  the  gloomy  pine  forest  to  the 
road.  The  shouting  of  the  drivers  of  some  artil- 
lery limbers,  loaded  with  shells,  which  came  clank- 
ing down  the  road,  was  pleasant  music  to  my  ears. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  tent  Michael  asked  me 
if  it  had  been  too  cold  to  sleep  in  the  old  house, 
and  I  told  him  of  my  silent  companions. 


SOUND  SLEEPERS  183 

"They  were  probably  placed  there  until  to-mor- 
row when  they  were  to  be  buried,"  he  explained. 
"Meester  sleep  here  in  the  tent  and  if  the  wounded 
come  I  shall  call  him." 

I  lay  down  on  my  blankets  and  fell  sound  asleep 
once  more.  I  did  not  wake  until  morning.  When 
I  opened  my  eyes,  I  noticed  several  fresh  jagged 
holes  in  the  tent  and  asked  Mike  about  them. 

"Two  shells  hit  close  to  the  tent  last  night,"  he 
replied;  "but  you  were  asleep  and  I  didn't  call 
you,  as  no  more  came." 

During  the  morning  Colonel  Starik  called  and 
told  me  I  had  better  move  the  dressing  station 
back  half  a  mile,  as  he  considered  it  very  danger- 
ous to  remain  v/here  we  were. 

To  have  moved  back,  however,  would  have 
made  it  necessary  for  the  wounded  and  our 
stretcher-bearers  to  walk  just  so  much  farther  and 
we  decided  to  stay  where  we  were.  Later  I  was 
to  learn  how  much  wiser  it  would  have  been  to 
have  heeded  the  Colonel's  warning. 

The  Colonel  was  very  much  discouraged  as  to 
the  outcome  of  this  battle. 

"We  shall  probably  attack  again  to-night,"  he 
said.  "We'll  have  more  reserves  up  then.  There 
will  be  some  further  artillery  preparation,  but  I 


i84  SURGEON  GROW 

think  it  very  foolish  to  continue.  They  are  fully 
prepared  for  us  and  I  don't  think  we  have  a  chance 
of  breaking  through.  I've  lost  over  two-thirds  of 
my  regiment  1" 

Lieutenant  Muhanoff  dropped  in  a  little  later. 
His  regiment  was  so  depleted  that  it  had  been 
sent  into  reserve,  and  the  Lieutenant  had  plenty 
of  time  at  his  command.  I  was  glad  that  he  was 
out  of  it,  temporarily  at  any  rate,  as  I  was  becom- 
ing very  fond  of  him. 

"Isn't  it  wonderful  how  our  soldiers  go  into  the 
attack  again  and  again  without  flinching?"  he 
asked,  admiringly.  "Each  new  regiment  that 
comes  up  knows,  of  course,  of  the  enormous  losses 
of  the  one  whose  place  they  are  taking,  and  yet 
they  enter  the  fight  with  the  utmost  bravery.  As 
I  came  up  the  road  I  passed  our  fifth  regiment 
going  into  reserve,  and  I  don't  believe  there  was 
one  thousand  men  left  out  of  the  original  four 
thousand." 

I  could  but  agree  with  him,  for  I  had  learned 
to  respect  these  sturdy  peasant  soldiers. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  a  German  plane  soared 
over  our  trenches,  high  up  in  the  blue  sky,  accom- 
panied on  its  course  by  the  cotton-like  puffs  of 
shrapnel  from  our  anti-aircraft  guns.    The  far-off 


SOUND  SLEEPERS  185 

drone  of  his  motor  could  be  heard  as  he  circled 
about,  dropping  slightly  near  the  earth  as  he 
passed  directly  over  our  tent. 

I  wondered  If  he  could  make  us  out  nestling 
down  there  among  the  pines  or  If  he  could  see 
through  our  pine-bough  camouflage. 

I  retired  early  that  night,  for  there  would  prob- 
ably be  an  attack  at  daybreak  and  I  would  have 
to  be  about  early  to  prepare  for  the  new  crop  of 
wounded.  Some  time  In  the  night  I  heard  our 
artillery  open  up  an  intense  fire,  but  dropped  off 
to  sleep  again  despite  the  noise,  and  with  never 
an  Inkling  of  what  was  in  store  for  me  on  the 
morrow. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

INJURED  BY  A  SHELL 

T  WAS  awakened  by  Mike  shaking  me  and  shout- 

ing  in  my  ear. 

"Quick,  Meester,  to  the  hlindage  (bomb- 
proof) !"  he  was  yelling  excitedly.  "German 
shoot  'em  up  like  hell!" 

They  surely  were  shooting  us  up !  I  could  hear 
the  distant  roar  of  their  artillery,  with  the  pecu- 
liar double  reports  loom-boom  blurred  Into  a  con- 
stant roll  of  drum-fire.  Their  shells  were  liter- 
ally sweeping  the  forest.  A  constant  stream  was 
pouring  In,  whistling  and  crashing,  and  I  could 
hear  their  fragments  buzzing  through  the  air  like 
a  swarm  of  angry  bees,  and  the  sound  of  faUing 
limbs  and  branches.  Several  pieces  struck  the 
tent,  ripping  through  the  canvas  and  leaving 
jagged  holes. 

I  jumped  up  and  followed  Mike  out  of  the  tent 
and  we  plunged  through  the  darkness  for  a  little 

l86 


INJURED  BY  A  SHELL  187 

bomb-proof  which  my  orderlies  had  dug  in  the 
sodden  ground  near  the  tent. 

It  was  a  tiny  affair  about  five  feet  square  and 
about  four  feet  deep.  It  had  a  fairly  strong  roof 
of  logs  and  dirt  but  it  was  half  full  of  melted 
snow-water. 

"Come,  Meester,  come  quick!"  shouted  Mike 
above  the  uproar,  as  we  heard  the  wail  of  an- 
other shell  coming  down.  I  figured  that  It  would 
be  very  close  this  time  as  I  leaped  over  a  dead 
horse  and  made  for  the  sound  of  Mike's  voice  in 
the  darkness  ahead. 

There  was  a  terrific  blinding  flash  right  at  my 
side,  and  I  knew  no  more. 

The  first  sensation  I  had  on  recovering  con- 
sciousness was  a  sharp  pain  in  my  head,  and  the 
second  of  being  In  Icy  water  up  to  my  waist,  but 
the  third  and  most  startling  thing  was  the  abso- 
lute stillness. 

I  looked  about  me.  Above,  not  a  foot  from 
my  face,  were  a  number  of  logs  placed  close  to- 
gether. Then  I  saw  a  hand  holding  a  candle  and 
then  Mike's  face,  as  white  as  chalk,  peering  down 
at  me,  with  tears  streaming  from  his  eyes. 

I  put  out  my  hand,  groping  about,  and  came  in 
contact  with  Icy  water,  which  covered  the  lower 


i88  SURGEON  GROW 

part  of  my  body.  Then  I  realized  that  I  was  In 
the  little  bomb-proof  and  that  Mike  was  holding 
me  up,  keeping  my  face  and  chest  out  of  the  water 
with  one  arm  and  holding  the  lighted  candle  with 
his  other. 

His  lips  moved  but  I  heard  no  sound,  neither 
could  I  hear  the  artillery — It  was  silent  as  a  tomb. 
I  wondered  why  It  was  so  still,  for  I  recalled  the 
noise  of  an  Instant  before. 

I  spoke  to  Mike,  asking  him  If  they  had  stopped 
shelling  us — and  I  could  not  hear  my  own  voice ! 

Apparently  I  was  stone-deaf!  I  put  my  fingers 
in  my  ears  and  they  came  away  slightly  blood- 
stained. Then  I  realized  that  the  explosion  had 
broken  my  ear-drums. 

Mike  started  to  crawl  out  of  the  bomb-proof, 
dragging  me  with  him,  but  I  told  him  I  was  quite 
able  to  walk,  and  When  I  got  out  I  stood  up  un- 
assisted, feeling  only  a  little  weak.  There  was  a 
slight  buzzing  in  my  ears. 

When  we  got  back  to  our  tent,  I  noticed  that 
there  were  several  small  tears  in  my  coat  just  over 
the  left  chest  and  then  I  felt  a  stinging  sensation 
at  this  point.  Examination  revealed  several  small 
fragments  of  steel  imbedded  in  the  skin  which 


INJURED  BY  A  SHELL  189 

Mike  pulled  out  with  forceps,  touching  the  bleed- 
ing points  with  iodine. 

Dawn  was  showing  its  first  gray  light  by  this 
time  and  I  decided  to  visit  the  scene  of  the  explo- 
sion which  had  felled  me.  A  big  tree  lying  on  the 
ground  at  this  point  told  me  the  story. 

The  shell  had  come  directly  toward  me  but  had 
struck  the  tree  five  feet  above  the  ground.  It  had 
exploded  where  it  struck,  cutting  the  tree  entirely 
off  at  this  point,  which  was  about  twenty  inches  in 
diameter.  The  tree  had  toppled  over  but  the 
force  of  the  shell  had  carried  the  trunk  forward 
toward  me,  the  top  falling  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion. I  had  been  about  four  feet  from  the  tree 
when  the  shell  struck  and  the  force  of  the  explo- 
sion had  hurled  me  to  the  ground.  The  frag- 
ments, coming  through  twenty  inches  of  tough 
green  wood,  had  lost  their  velocity  and  did  not 
have  force  enough  to  go  through  my  skin. 

Had  I  been  out  of  line  of  the  tree  I  would  no 
doubt  have  been  killed  instantly.  As  it  was,  the 
only  injury  I  suffered  was  the  rupturing  of  my 
ear-drums  and  the  condition  known  as  shell-shock 
due  to  dynamic  air  pressure,  which  sometimes 
amounts  to  as  much  as  ten  tons  to  the  square  yard 
in  the  vicinity  of  a  large  shell  when  it  explodes. 


190  SURGEON  GROW 

I  had  seen  many  cases  of  ruptured  ear-drums  and 
knew  that  they  all  healed  up  and  hearing  was  fully 
restored  within  two  or  three  weeks,  so  I  consid- 
ered myself  very  lucky. 

When  I  recovered  my  hearing  some  two  weeks 
later,  Mike  told  me  his  part  of  the  story. 

He  had  been  some  thirty  feet  in  front  of  me, 
ready  to  dive  into  the  bomb-proof,  when  he  heard 
the  shell  coming.  He  called  to  me  to  hurry  and 
jumped  into  the  bomb-proof  just  as  the  shell  ex- 
ploded. When  I  did  not  arrive,  he  concluded  I 
had  been  killed  or  wounded  and  came  to  look  for 
me.  Shells  were  breaking  all  about,  but  he  ran 
to  where  I  had  been  and  found  me  lying  close  to 
the  dead  horse.  Then  he  had  dragged  me  back 
to  the  bomb-proof  through  a  perfect  hail  of  fly- 
ing fragments  and  had  succeeded  in  getting  me 
inside,  holding  my  face  above  the  water  which  was 
a  foot  deep,  while  he  contrived  to  light  a  candle 
with  the  other  hand. 

Although  he  could  not  find  any  wounds  by  the 
light  of  the  candle,  he  thought  I  was  dead.  Most 
of  the  Russian  orderlies  become  greatly  attached 
to  the  ofHcers  they  serve  and  Mike  was  not  an 
exception  in  this  case:  hence  the  tear-stained  face 
which  I  saw  when  I  opened  my  eyes.     He  was  a 


INJURED  BY  A  SHELL  191 

brave,  faithful  fellow,  and  I  probably  owe  my 
life  to  his  devotion,  for  if  he  had  allowed  me  to 
lie  where  I  had  fallen,  I  should  undoubtedly  have 
been  struck  by  pieces  of  shells,  several  of  which 
landed  close  by. 

The  following  day  I  decided  to  follow  the  sug- 
gestion the  Colonel  had  made  and  move  my  dress- 
ing station  a  half  mile  back.  The  aeroplane  which 
had  flown  over  the  day  before  had  possibly  spotted 
our  tent  and  the  German  artillery  might  give  us 
another  bombardment  any  moment — perhaps 
worse  than  the  one  we  had  gone  through. 

While  we  were  packing  up,  I  received  word 
from  Colonel  Kalpaschnecoff  that  our  division  was 
to  go  into  reserve  and  that  we  should  move  back 
to  our  base  in  the  village  about  eight  miles  from 
the  line. 

Our  division  had  lost  over  one-half  its  men  and 
was  unable  to  continue  the  offensive.  It  would  be 
replaced  by  one  of  the  divisions  in  reserve,  drawn 
from  one  of  the  five  army  corps  commanded  by 
General  Pleschcoff. 

I  was  glad  that  there  was  to  be  no  more  work, 
for  my  head  was  bothering  me  a  great  deal  and 
it  was  difficult  to  "carry  on"  on  account  of  my 
absolute  deafness. 


192  SURGEON  GROW 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  started  with  our 
long  line  of  ambulances  and  transports,  hoping 
to  cross  the  exposed  road  in  the  dusk  of  the  eve- 
ning when  the  German  observers  would  be  un- 
able to  make  us  out. 

The  day  had  been  warm  and  sunny  and  had 
converted  the  road  into  rivers  of  mud  and  snow- 
water up  to  the  hubs  of  the  ambulances.  The 
setting  sun  cast  its  long  rays  over  the  marshes 
and  flooded  fields  and  there  was  a  feeling  of 
spring  in  the  air.  A  flock  of  wild  geese  went  honk- 
ing far  overhead,  winging  their  way  steadily 
northward. 

When  we  passed  the  group  of  deserted  houses 
where  I  had  slept  with  my  silent  companions  two 
nights  before,  I  saw  that  a  shell  had  completely 
demolished  the  old  barn  and  that  only  a  tumbled 
mass  of  boards  and  rafters  remained. 

The  roadside  was  dotted  with  little  crosses 
erected  over  the  graves  of  soldiers  who  had  died 
of  their  wounds  en  route  to  the  divisional  hos- 
pital, for  we  were  jolting  down  the  same  road  we 
had  sent  the  wounded  over. 

The  roads  were  blocked  with  lim.bers  loaded 
with  shells  to  feed  the  guns,  the  horses  straining 
at  the  traces  knee-deep  in  mud  and  water,  trying 


INJURED  BY  A  SHELL  193 

to  pull  the  heavy  carts,  the  drivers  yelling  and  fly- 
ing the  whip,  and  our  progress  was  slow. 

As  evening  approached  we  crossed  the  open 
field  where  we  had  been  shelled  coming  in  and 
saw  dozens  of  horses  sprawled  out  along  the  road- 
side. We  passed  one  of  our  battalions  silently 
splashing  through  the  icy  water,  tired  and  bedrag- 
gled from  three  days  of  constant  fighting,  their 
faces  white  and  drawn  as  they  trudged  back  to 
the  reserve  billets.  They  did  not  march  In  order 
but  in  a  straggling  line,  picking  their  way  through 
the  water-covered  fields  to  avoid  the  mud  of  the 
road,  and  there  was  not  three  hundred  of  the 
original  twelve  hundred  left! 

Just  before  we  entered  the  forest  beyond  the 
field,  I  turned  in  my  saddle  and  looked  back 
toward  the  positions  for  the  last  time. 

Another  bombardment  was  on,  and  while  I 
could  not  hear  it,  I  could  feel  the  heavy  air  vibra- 
tions as  it  rolled  in  drum-fire,  and  could  see  the 
rockets  rise,  flickering  over  the  dark  forest  which 
lay  between.  A  gray  haze  of  smoke  stretched 
above  the  tree-tops,  dimly  visible  in  the  fast  fad- 
ing light,  marking  the  barrage. 

I  turned,  and  touching  my  horse  lightly  with 
my  spurs,  passed  into  the  forest,  the  trees  shut- 


194  SURGEON  GROW 

ting  off  my  last  view  of  that  great  battle.  It 
ended  In  failure  so  far  as  advancing  our  lines  was 
concerned,  but  It  served  to  divert  a  great  number 
of  German  troops  from  our  hard-pressed  French 
allies  at  Verdun — and  perhaps  that  achievement 
was  worth  all  It  cost.  In  that  battle  we  lost  half 
of  our  army  corps  of  50,000  men;  and  other  corps 
which  were  engaged  before  It  was  over — It  lasted 
several  days  after  I  left — also  lost  heavily.  On 
our  side  there  were  thirteen  attacks  of  Importance. 
It  required  men  with  nerves  of  steel  to  charge 
across  that  hell  of  No  Man's  Land,  but  those 
Russian  peasant  soldiers  did  It  time  after  time. 
They  realized  that  It  was  almost  sure  death  to 
do  so,  but  there  was  no  flinching.  Many  were 
killed  In  the  reserve  positions  without  even  a  rifle 
in  their  hands;  for  because  of  the  machinations  of 
pro-German  plotters  In  Petrograd  our  troops 
never  had  sufficient  rifles.  Many  times  they  had 
to  wait  until  rifles  taken  from  the  wounded  could 
be  given  to  them.  There  Is  nothing  which  will 
break  the  morale  of  troops  so  quickly  as  to  be 
under  shell  fire  without  a  weapon  of  defense  In 
their  hands.  Then,  too,  the  knowledge  that  they 
had  been  betrayed  to  the  Germans,  that  they  had 
known  for  weeks  before  of  our  plans  and  had 


■t^L^    5 


U    *-    3 


~    en    ° 


;t3<M«I^ 


TS   >   o 


INJURED  BY  A  SHELL  195 

concentrated  such  an  overwhelming  amount  of 
guns  and  men  at  this  point  to  break  down  our 
attacks,  had  a  most  depressing  effect.  The  won- 
der of  it  was  that  our  troops  attacked  at  all  in 
the  face  of  such  discouragement. 


CHAPTER  XVTI 

THE  MEDAL  OF  ST.  GEORGE 

I ACK  In  the  peaceful  little  village,  with  straw- 
thatched  cabins,  the  sounds  of  the  bitter  fight- 
ing raging  In  the  forest  and  swamps  along  the 
front  came  to  us  like  distant  thunder.  The  village 
was  a  perfect  haven  of  rest  to  our  fagged  brains, 
worn  almost  to  the  breaklng-point  by  the  excite- 
ment and  nervous  strain  of  the  past  week. 

The  spring  was  just  beginning  to  dispel  the 
long  stern  winter  and  the  smell  of  fresh  earth  and 
new  budding  life  was  in  the  air.  The  sound  of 
running  water  told  us  that  the  Iron  fetters  of  the 
Frost  King  had  been  broken. 

My  hearing  gradually  came  back  and  the  noises 
in  my  head  cleared  up,  but  I  was  still  nervous 
from  the  shock  of  the  exploding  shell. 

One  day  Colonel  Kalpaschnecoff  came  to  me 
and  with  a  twinkle  In  his  brown  eyes,  said:  "A 
personage,  one  of  the  Grand  Dukes,  is  coming  to 
our  corps  bearing  the  personal  thanks  of  the  Em- 

196 


THE  MEDAL  OF  ST.  GEORGE     197 

peror  to  the  soldiers  and  officers  of  the  First 
Siberian  Army  Corps  for  their  valiant  efforts  in 
the  fighting  of  last  week.  I  was  ordered  by  Gen- 
eral Pleschcoff  to  tell  you  that  your  presence  would 
be  required  on  the  field  when  the  troops  are  re- 
viewed by  His  High  Excellency,  the  Grand 
Duke." 

"What  has  that  got  to  do  with  me?"  I  asked 
in  astonishment. 

"I  presume  General  Pleschcoff  desires  your 
presence  to  lend  eclat  to  the  occasion,"  he  replied, 
smiling.  "Anyway,  be  sure  to  be  on  hand,  dress 
up  in  your  best  duds,  and  don't  forget  it's  sched- 
uled for  the  day  after  to-morrow  at  2  i^o  p.  m." 

I  went  to  the  review  and  stood  with  the  officers 
of  the  staff,  and  heard  the  High  Personage  speak 
a  few  words  of  praise  to  our  men,  who  were 
drawn  up  in  a  great  hollow  square.  The  regi- 
ments were  dwindled  to  a  mere  handful  of  their 
former  numbers,  and  some  companies  had  no  offi- 
cers at  all  to  command  the  thirty  or  forty  sur- 
vivors— companies  which  had  numbered  two  hun- 
dred men  two  weeks  before. 

Certain  soldiers  were  called  by  name  and 
stepped  out  of  line,  advanced  to  the  center  of  the 
field,  and  stood  at  attention  before  the  Personage. 


198  SURGEON  GROW 

Medals  and  crosses,  dangling  from  ribbons  of 
orange  and  black,  were  pinned  to  their  left  breasts 
over  the  heart. 

More  kind  words  were  spoken  by  the  Personage 
and  General  Pleschcoff,  and  then  the  soldiers  sa- 
luted, wheeled,  and  marched  stiffly  back  Into  the 
ranks. 

Certain  officers  were  then  called  by  name  and 
stepped  into  the  field,  where  little  white  crosses 
suspended  from  orange  and  black  ribbons  were 
similarly  pinned  to  their  breasts. 

Among  the  names  called  was  a  strangely  for- 
eign one  and  I  felt  the  Colonel  push  me  forward 
and  say:  "Hurry!  That's  you!  Don't  forget 
to  salute  with  the  right  hand!" 

So  I  walked  out  and  stood  at  attention  and  the 
Personage  smiled  and  said: 

"Malcom  Alvaovitch  Grow,  you  have  been 
mentioned  by  the  commander  of  the  first  division 
in  despatches  to  our  Emperor.  These  despatches 
told  how  you  stuck  to  your  post  through  most  try- 
ing circumstances,  caring  for  our  wounded  Rus- 
sians, although  warned  by  Colonel  Starik  to  retire, 
and  how  you  set  for  your  orderlies  and  for  our 
soldiers  an  example  of  devotion  to  duty  and 
bravery.     For  this  the  Emperor  desires  that  I 


THE  MEDAL  OF  ST.  GEORGE     199 

thank  you  and  present  to  you  the  medal  of  St. 
George." 

Then  he  pinned  the  medal  on  my  left  breast  and 
kissed  me  on  both  cheeks,  as  did  General  Plesch- 
coff. 

I  was  too  astonished  to  struggle,  as  would  have 
become  a  true  American,  and  I  don't  remember 
saluting,  but  the  Colonel  told  me  afterward  that 
I  did.  As  I  walked  off  the  field  I  heard  dimly  a 
roaring  sound  which  I  took  to  be  the  cheering  of 
a  large  number  of  men,  but  I  am  not  sure,  for  my 
hearing  had  not  quite  returned. 

When  I  got  back  to  where  the  officers  were 
grouped  I  had  to  endure  some  more  kissing  by 
various  bearded  individuals. 

A  few  days  later  Colonel  Kalpaschnecoff  asked 
me  if  I  would  like  to  go  to  America  for  a  short 
leave  of  absence. 

*'You  have  been  pretty  well  knocked  about  by 
that  shell,"  he  argued,  "and  the  muddy  season  is 
at  hand.  The  corps  has  lost  half  its  men  and 
won't  be  able  to  fight  again  for  at  least  two 
months.  We'll  stay  in  reserve,  filling  up  the  gaps 
in  the  ranks  for  that  length  of  time  anyway,  and 
I  see  no  reason  why  you  should  not  go." 


200  SURGEON  GROW 

I  didn't  either,  and  I  hastily  packed  up  and 
started  for  Petrograd. 

I  left  our  village  at  ten  o'clock  at  night,  riding 
the  twenty  versts  to  the  station  on  horseback  and 
there  collecting  my  luggage  which  had  been  sent 
ahead  by  cart. 

The  Easter  holidays  were  approaching  and  the 
trains  were  crowded  with  officers  going  home  to 
celebrate  the  greatest  of  Russian  hoHdays  with 
their  friends  and  families. 

Many  soldiers  had  also  been  given  a  furlough, 
and  the  third  and  fourth  class  waiting-room  was 
crowded  with  soldiers  sleeping  on  the  floor  and 
packed  so  tightly  that  one  could  scarcely  walk. 
The  first  and  second  class  waiting-room  was  nearly 
as  congested,  although  the  officers  did  not  sleep 
on  the  floors. 

The  train  was  so  crowded  that  we  had  to  stand 
In  the  aisles.  I  stood  for  seventeen  hours  in  all, 
sleeping  part  of  the  time  as  I  stood.  After  a 
journey  of  several  days,  during  part  of  which,  of 
course,  I  managed  to  get  a  seat,  I  finally  came  to 
Petrograd.  There  I  had  to  wait  eight  days  be- 
fore I  succeeded  in  getting  permission  to  leave 
the  country.     My  trip  through  Finland,  Norway 


THE  MEDAL  OF  ST.  GEORGE    201 

and  Sweden  to  Christiana  where  I  took  passage 
for  America  was  without  special  Incident. 

I  spent  three  delightful  weeks  In  my  own  coun- 
try and  returned  to  Russia  via  Archangel,  arriv- 
ing at  that  port  in  early  June,  19 16. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A  DEMONSTRATION  ATTACK 

A  S  we  reached  the  entrance  of  the  White  Sea, 
we  received  reports  of  the  Austrian  concen- 
tration on  the  Italian  front,  how  they  had  ad- 
vanced to  the  edge  of  the  plains  and  how  Brusi- 
loff's  smashing  drive  into  Austria  through  Galicia 
and  the  Carpathians,  with  the  capture  of  large 
numbers  of  prisoners,  had  caused  such  pressure 
on  Austria  that  she  had  been  obliged  to  withdraw 
her  divisions  from  the  Italian  front  and  send  them 
north  against  the  Russians.  This  released  the 
pressure  in  Italy  and  gave  her  time  to  bring  up 
troops  and  stem  the  Austrian  advance. 

I  felt  sure  that  my  corps  would  get  into  this 
action,  and  I  was  anxious  to  rejoin  it.  I  lost  no 
time  In  getting  to  Petrograd,  therefore,  and  after 
interviewing  the  commandant  of  the  railroad  sta- 
tion there  I  was  able  to  secure  a  place-card  for  a 
berth  on  the  train  going  to  the  front  with  very 
little  delay. 

202 


A  DEMONSTRATION  ATTACK     203 

At  the  little  station  ten  miles  back  of  the  line 
where  our  troops  were  In  the  trenches  south  of 

Lake ,  I  was  met  by  the  old  victoria  driven 

by  Michael,  my  orderly. 

He  was  overjoyed  at  seeing  me  back  and  In- 
quired If  my  hearing  had  been  completely  restored 
after  the  shell  shock. 

"I  think  we'll  have  a  big  fight  In  a  few  days," 
he  said. 

I  could  hear  the  artillery  booming  In  steady 
drum-fire  In  the  positions  twenty  miles  away  to 
the  west. 

The  roads,  now  dry  and  In  good  condition, 
were  filled  with  transport  wagons  hauling  sup- 
plies to  the  troops.  I  was  struck  by  the  number 
of  little  colts  which  trotted  along  on  their  stilt- 
like  legs  beside  their  mothers  who  pulled  at  the 
shafts  of  the  heavy  carts.  They  were  nearly  all 
the  same  size  and  age — born  In  the  spring  of  the 
year.  Some  of  the  very  youngest  were  so  weak 
that  the  kindly  drivers,  seeing  they  had  grown 
tired,  had  lifted  them  up  in  the  carts  and  they 
were  riding  along,  gazing  out  over  the  side  with 
their  great  dark  eyes,  apparently  quite  content. 
Nearly  every  cart  had  one  of  these  youngsters 
either  riding  In   the  box  or  running  alongside. 


204  SURGEON  GROW 

When  they  reach  a  sufficient  age  they  are  sent  to 
great  breeding  stations,  where  they  are  reared  and 
broken  to  harness  or  used  for  cavalry  horses. 
The  Russians  had  ten  milHon  horses  at  the  out- 
break of  the  war,  but  at  the  end  of  two  years  of 
warfare  this  number  had  been  sadly  depleted  and 
every  effort  was  being  made  to  increase  it. 

Our  base  was  in  a  little  village  four  miles  back 
of  the  lines,  in  a  house  belonging  to  the  village 
priest.  As  soon  as  I  arrived  we  dined  out  of 
doors  beneath  a  great  vine  which  climbed  over  a 
lattice  work. 

While  we  were  seated  at  dinner  a  German  plane 
flew  over.  Our  anti-aircraft  guns  were  firing  at 
it  and  their  tiny  white  puffs  of  shrapnel  dotted  the 
sky  overhead,  eight  thousand  feet  in  the  air.  Sud- 
denly we  heard  a  whir-r-r-r-r  from  above,  which 
became  louder  as  it  approached.  We  thought  the 
German  had  dropped  a  bomb  and  we  waited 
tensely  for  the  explosion. 

The  priest  sat  directly  opposite  me  and  as  I 
glanced  at  him  I  was  struck  at  the  set  expression 
of  his  face  and  the  deathly  pallor.  He  held  a 
fork  poised  in  his  hand,  half-way  to  his  mouth. 

The  missile  landed  with  a  loud  thud  not  four 
feet  back  of  my  chair,  knocking  leaves  from  the 


A  DEMONSTRATION  ATTACK     205 

branches  overhead  on  to  our  tablecloth.  The 
priest's  fork  clattered  to  the  table,  he  bowed  his 
head  and  crossed  himself  three  times.  A  long- 
drawn  sigh  of  relief  escaped  my  lips  and  I  got  up 
to  examine  the  object  which  had  so  narrowly 
missed  me. 

I  found  a  neat  circular  hole  in  the  earth  about 
three  and  a  half  inches  in  diameter. 

"Be  careful!"  Colonel  Kalpaschnecoff  warned, 
as  I  cautiously  reached  down.  "If  it  is  a  defective 
bomb,  the  slightest  jar  may  cause  it  to  explode  I" 

I  reached  down  until  my  arm  was  in  above  the 
elbow,  when  I  felt  a  metallic  disk  which  I  recog- 
nized to  be  the  rear  end  of  a  shrapnel  casing. 
After  some  difficulty  I  managed  to  lift  it  out  and 
found  that  it  was  an  empty  casing,  one  which  had 
been  fired  by  our  own  guns,  had  discharged  its 
pellets  at  the  Boche  when  its  time  fuse  ignited  the 
powder  charge,  and  had  then  fallen  to  the  earth. 

The  dropping  of  these  shrapnel  cases  is  the 
cause  of  many  casualties.  They  drop  from  a 
height  of  five  or  six  thousand  feet  and  naturally 
attain  tremendous  velocity.  I  attended  a  soldier 
who  had  been  struck  on  the  foot  by  one  of  them, 
completely  amputating  that  member  at  the  instep. 
Another  poor  fellow  was  hit  directly  on  the  head 


2o6  SURGEON  GROW 

and  killed  outright,  his  skull  being  crushed  like 
an  eggshell. 

"The  Germans  are  sending  their  greeting  to 
you  on  your  arrival  from  America,"  remarked  the 
Colonel,  as  we  resumed  our  meal,  and  I  kept  the 
empty  shell-casing  as  a  souvenir  of  my  return  to 
the  Russian  army.  It  weighs  about  ten  pounds 
and  serves  as  a  receptacle  for  flowers. 

"We  will  have  a  demonstration  attack  in  a  few 
days,"  the  Colonel  enlightened  me,  when  the  tea 
was  served  and  we  had  lighted  our  cigarettes. 
"The  object  of  the  action  will  be  to  prevent  the 
Germans  from  sending  troops  to  the  south  to 
reinforce  the  hard-pressed  Austrians  where  Brusi- 
loff  is  driving  them  steadily  back,  taking  large 
numbers  of  prisoners. 

"At  the  same  time  that  we  attack,  there  will 
be  a  great  offensive  about  a  hundred  miles  south 
of  us  at  Baranovitchi.  Our  corps  will  not  at- 
tempt to  pierce  the  German  line.  In  fact,  if  we 
capture  their  first  and  second  lines  we  shall  occupy 
them  only  a  short  time  and  then  return  to  our 
own  lines." 

The  next  morning  I  rode  out  to  our  main  dress- 
ing station,  which  was  located  In  a  peasant's  cot- 
tage about  one  verst  (five-eighths  of  a  mile)  back 


A  DEMONSTRATION  ATTACK     207 

of  the  trenches.  The  house  belonged  to  a  man 
about  seventy  years  of  age,  and  despite  the  shell- 
ing the  place  had  received,  the  old  fellow  wouldn't 
leave. 

He  was  the  only  peasant  remaining  In  the  lo- 
cality, all  the  inhabitants  of  the  neighboring  vil- 
lage having  fled  when  the  Germans  approached. 
As  he  tended  to  his  bees,  of  which  he  had  about 
twenty  hives,  he  reminded  me  very  much  of  Tol- 
stoi, whom  he  strongly  resembled. 

We  used  the  large  room  of  the  house  for  our 
dressing  station,  and  we  fixed  up  an  old  barn  to 
serve  as  an  annex  where  the  wounded  might  be 
placed  while  waiting  for  the  ambulances  to  re- 
move them  to  the  division  hospital. 

There  was  not  sufficient  time  to  make  a  bomb- 
proof, so  I  pitched  a  little  tent  under  an  apple- 
tree  in  the  garden  where  it  was  well  screened  from 
German  observers  by  the  foliage.  About  fifty  feet 
from  the  tent  a  line  of  well-constructed  reserve- 
trenches  cut  diagonally  across  the  garden,  and  they 
could  be  used  as  a  refuge  in  case  of  heavy  shell- 
ing. 

I  ate  my  meals  in  the  open  on  a  box  placed 
under  the  apple-tree,  as  my  tent  was  thickly  in- 
fested with  flies.     By  closing  the  flap  of  the  tent 


2o8  SURGEON  GROW 

during  meals  I  was  able  to  pen  them  in  and  could 
eat  my  food  in  comparative  peace. 

The  German  positions  were  on  a  ridge  about  a 
verst  away  from  my  tent  and  in  plain  view  as  I  sat 
at  my  meals. 

Our  artillery,  which  was  back  of  me  firing  over 
my  head,  was  pouring  a  steady  rain  of  projectiles 
on  the  ridge,  and  fifteen  or  twenty  shells  could  be 
seen  bursting  at  one  time  on  the  slcyline.  The  con- 
stant stream  of  shells  striking  the  ridge  at  various 
points  along  the  crest  threw  up  fountains  of  black 
smoke  and  dirt  to  a  height  of  a  hundred  feet  and 
more,  looking*  like  strange  trees  which  developed 
as  you  watched. 

Lieutenant  Muhanoff  dropped  In  for  dinner  the 
afternoon  that  I  arrived  and  we  were  sitting 
watching  the  shelling  while  Michael  served  din- 
ner. 

Several  German  shells  came  moaning  toward 
our  batteries,  which  were  situated  in  the  woods 
back  of  us  about  five  hundred  yards  from  the 
garden. 

We  had  finished  dinner  and  were  sitting  enjoy- 
ing the  fine  warm  sunshine  when  Michael,  who 
was  standing  nearby,  held  up  his  hand  and  cried, 
"Listen!" 


A  DEMONSTRATION  ATTACK     209 

Whoo!  We  heard  the  shell  coming  and  all 
three  dived  for  the  shelter  of  the  reserve-trench, 
which  was  only  a  few  steps  from  where  we  sat. 
We  had  barely  jumped  in  before  the  shell  ex- 
ploded with  a  frightful  crash  just  back  of  the 
tent  in  the  middle  of  the  garden. 

We  crouched  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  trench 
waiting  for  the  next  one,  which  came  over  pres- 
ently and  burst  near  the  house. 

Just  as  it  exploded,  Michael,  who  was  sitting 
on  the  fire-step  of  the  trench,  clapped  his  hand  to 
his  forehead  with  a  loud  cry.  I  decided  that  he 
had  been  struck  by  a  piece  of  shell  and  stepped 
over  to  him.  He  was  holding  his  hand  to  his  fore- 
head and  his  face  was  ghastly. 

No  blood  appeared  between  his  fingers. 

"Do  you  think  I  am  done  for?"  he  whispered, 
as  I  removed  his  hands. 

All  I  could  see  was  a  little  red  spot  just  above 
the  eyebrow,  in  the  center  of  which  was  stuck  a 
black  spine  like  a  small  thorn. 

He  was  terribly  frightened  and  I  was  just  about 
to  assure  him  that  whatever  it  was  it  would  not 
prove  fatal,  when  something  hit  me  in  back  of  the 
neck  with  such  force  that  my  head  rocked. 

A  terrible  burning  followed,  anc  immediately 


210  SURGEON  GROW 

afterward  I  received  a  second  blow  on  the  left 
cheek,  followed  by  a  similar  smarting  bum. 

There  was  a  startled  cry  from  the  Lieutenant, 
and  he  started  running  up  the  trench,  wildly  beat- 
ing the  air  with  his  hands. 

When  a  third  shell  came  whistling  in  and  ex- 
ploded, Michael  gave  vent  to  a  howl  and  jumped 
up,  shouting:     "The  bees!     The  bees  I" 

The  air  was  now  full  of  an  angry  humming,  and 
as  I  started  off  in  full  flight  after  Michael,  who 
was  now  following  the  Lieutenant,  I  received  an- 
other lightning  stab  on  the  back  of  the  neck. 

The  shells  landing  among  the  dozen  or  more 
hives  had  by  the  force  of  their  explosion  knocked 
them  over,  and  the  little  owners,  furious  at  this 
disturbance,  had  gone  forth  to  give  battle.  We 
were  the  innocent  victims  of  their  attack. 

A  perfect  swarm  of  the  angry  insects  buzzed 
about  my  head  as  I  ran,  fanning  the  air  with  both 
hands.  The  Lieutenant,  unable  to  make  sufficient 
headway  in  the  narrow  crooked  trench,  threw  dis- 
cretion to  the  winds,  leaped  the  parapet,  and  ran 
madly  across  the  field,  away  from  the  garden. 
Michael,  his  head  surrounded  by  a  cloud  of  con- 
voys, followed  suit,  but  not  being  so  agile  as  the 


A  DEMONSTRATION  ATTACK     211 

Lieutenant,  stumbled  and  fell  rolling  down  the 
parapet  into  the  field. 

Another  shell  came  screeching  in  and  hit  on  the 
edge  of  the  garden,  and  the  air  was  full  of  the 
buzzing  of  a  more  destructive  agent  than  our  tor- 
mentors, the  bees. 

Michael,  alarmed  at  the  proximity  of  the  shell- 
burst,  leaped  to  his  feet  and  dashed  off,  fear  and 
pain  giving  added  speed  to  his  flight. 

I  decided  the  bees  were  preferable  to  the  shells, 
and  seeing  the  door  of  the  bomb-proof  open  I 
ran  into  the  sheltering  gloom  of  the  Interior,  where 
I  brushed  off  two  or  three  bees  who  were  cling- 
ing to  my  clothes.  I  stayed  in  the  bomb-proof 
until  the  Germans  had  ceased  shelling,  and  then 
went  In  search  of  the  other  victims. 

I  had  completely  lost  the  vision  of  one  eye  from 
an  enormous  swelling  which  closed  it  tight,  but  I 
succeeded  in  finding  the  Lieutenant  and  Michael. 
They  were  seated  on  the  grass  at  the  farther  end 
of  the  field  and  presented  a  wonderful  spectacle 
with  their  swollen  features. 

As  the  Lieutenant  rose  to  go  he  told  me  that 
his  company  was  not  going  over  In  the  attack 
scheduled  for  the  following  night. 

"I  know  of  an  observation  point  from  which  we 


212  SURGEON  GROW 

can  see  the  beginning  of  the  fight,"  he  said,  "and 
if  you  care  to,  come  to  my  regiment  to-morrow 
afternoon  and  we'll  watch  it  together." 

I  promised  to  do  so  provided  I  could  get  back 
to  the  dressing  station  in  time  to  attend  the 
wounded  when  they  came  in. 

"Very  well,"  he  said;  "you  can  leave  right  after 
the  first  wave  goes  over." 

Our  artillery  kept  up  a  steady  systematic  fire 
all  night  and  the  next  day.  In  the  afternoon  I 
rode  to  where  the  Lieutenant's  regiment  was  bil- 
leted in  dug-outs  in  the  forest  in  reserve.  I  left 
my  horse  there  and  we  walked  a  mile  to  the  posi- 
tions where  they  ran  along  on  the  top  of  some  high 
sand  ridges. 

We  went  through  an  approach-trench  which  zig- 
zagged up  one  of  these  hills,  the  highest  of  the 
series.  At  the  very  top  was  built  a  strong  bomb- 
proof which  was  used  as  an  observation  point. 

Just  over  the  brow  of  the  hill  were  our  first- 
line  trenches  which  faced  the  Germans  on  a  series 
of  lower  ridges  about  three  hundred  yards  away, 
a  shallow  ravine  lying  between. 

Far  off  on  the  right  flank,  stretching  away  for 
miles  to  the  horizon,  were  the  blue  waters  of  Lake 


A  DEMONSTRATION  ATTACK     213 

,  part  of  which  was  in  German  hands 


and  part  in  ours. 

The  right  flank  of  our  corps  rested  on  the  edge 
of  the  lake ;  and  across  six  miles  of  intervening  wa- 
ter I  could  see,  through  the  periscope  in  the  ob- 
servation point,  the  yellow  lines  of  the  trenches 
begin  on  its  farther  shore,  which  was  held  by  an- 
other corps. 

As  it  grew  dusky  and  our  artillery  increased  its 
fire,  the  Germans  kept  their  rockets  flying  in  the 
air  in  expectation  of  an  attack.  By  12:30  A.M., 
when  our  troops  went  over  the  top,  the  German 
line  simply  spouted  rockets  until  it  looked  like  a 
fireworks  exhibition  at  Coney  Island.  There  were 
;white  ones  by  the  thousand  and  dozens  of  red  ones 
— the  latter  being  used  where  our  troops  were 
pressing  the  Germans  hard  and  they  wanted  a 
more  intense  artillery  barrage. 

During  early  July  in  this  part  of  Russia  the 
nights  are  never  entirely  dark,  but  the  field  was 
covered  by  a  pall  of  smoke  through  which  could 
be  seen  the  angry  red  bursts  of  shrapnel  hke  light- 
ning through  a  cloud  mass  on  a  summer  night. 
By  the  light  of  these  shrapnel  explosions  and  the 
white,  red,  and  green  flares  of  the  enemy's  rockets. 


214  SURGEON  GROW 

we  could  see  the  entire  line  of  attack,  which  was 
over  a  front  of  one  kilometer. 

The  crackle  of  the  machine-guns  and  rifles  was 
intense  at  first  but  gradually  quieted  down.  That 
was  a  good  sign,  for  it  indicated  that  our  men  had 
taken  the  first  two  lines  and  had  silenced  the  Ger- 
man gunners. 

I  was  loath  to  leave  the  wonderful  sight,  but  I 
knew  the  wounded  were  starting  to  pour  back 
through  the  communication-trenches  and  I  had 
to  hurry  back  to  my  dressing  station. 

As  I  hurried  through  a  communication-trench 
I  passed  dozens  of  wounded,  who  were  slowly, 
wending  their  way  back,  many  sitting  down  to  rest 
for  a  few  moments  to  recover  from  the  pain  and 
shock  of  their  wounds. 

At  our  advanced  dressing  station,  which  was  in 
a  strong  dug-out  under  the  lea  of  a  sand-hill,  I 
stopped  a  moment  to  see  how  the  students  Metia 
and  Nicholi  were  coming  on  with  the  work. 

The  dug-out  was  packed  with  wounded  and  doz- 
ens were  lying  on  the  ground  outside  patiently  wait- 
ing their  turn.  The  students,  whose  white  gowns 
were  splattered  with  blood,  were  working  like 
mad  in  the  dull  light  of  a  couple  of  candles. 

I   hurried  on   across   some   low-lying  ground 


Seriously  wounded  soldier  being  carried  in  by  stretcher  bearers  during 
the  demonstration  attack. 


"Streams  of  wounded  soldiers  barely  able  to  walk,  reeled  along  like 
drunken  men  through  the  semi-darkness,  headed  for  our  dressing  sta- 
tion." 


A  DEMONSTRATION  ATTACK     215 

studded  with  little  pine-trees,  toward  the  main 
dressing  room  in  the  old  peasant's  house.  On  a 
narrow  trail  were  dozens  of  parties  of  stretcher- 
bearers,  four  to  a  stretcher,  stumblmg  along 
through  the  semi-darkness  bearing  their  moaning, 
pain-stricken  burdens,  while  other  wounded  sol- 
diers, barely  able  to  walk,  reeled  along  like  drunk- 
en men,  headed  for  our  dressing  station. 

In  the  stress  of  battle  we  had  to  make  men  walk 
who  were  hideously  wounded.  I  have  seen  them 
reel  in  with  their  jaws  shot  off,  with  both  arms 
shot  through,  or  with  a  gaping  hole  through  the 
thigh.  Sometimes  a  terribly  wounded  man  would 
come  in  leading  another  who  had  been  blinded  in 
both  eyes. 

I  soon  outdistanced  these  crawling  wretches  and 
had  a  free  path  to  the  dressing  station,  where  I 
found  everything  in  readiness.  The  orderlies  had 
sterihzed  my  instruments,  gauze  and  bandages 
were  at  hand,  and  the  ambulances  were  drawn 
up  in  a  long  line  waiting  for  their  passengers. 

Working  steadily  till  ten  o'clock  the  next  morn- 
ing, we  handled  two  hundred  and  eighty  wounded 
men  that  night  in  the  little  dressing  station. 

As  we  were  finishing  the  bandaging  of  the  last 
soldier,  Lieutenant  Muhanoff  came  into  the  band- 


2i6  SURGEON  GROW 

age-strewn  room  and  I  asked  him  If  the  demon- 
stration attack  had  been  a  success. 

"Yes,  yes,  a  great  success,"  he  replied.  "As 
you  know,  our  men  only  stayed*  a  few  minutes  in 
the  German  trenches  after  taking  the  first  two 
lines.  They  didn't  intend  to.  It  was  not  a  serious 
attempt  to  pierce  the  lines.  We  lost  about  three 
thousand  men  in  killed  and  wounded  out  of  the 
three  regiments  which  attacked." 

"Three  thousand  men  lost  in  a  mere  demonstra- 
tion!" I  exclaimed.  "Wasn't  that  pretty  costly 
work  just  to  keep  the  Germans  from  shifting 
troops?" 

"That  Is  war,"  commented  the  Lieutenant, 
shrugging  his  shoulders.  "I  have  seen  In  your 
America — what  do  you  call  it — ah,  yes — ^the  prize- 
fight. In  these  contests  I  have  seen  one  man  pre- 
tend to  strike  his  opponent  and  yet  have  no  inten= 
tlon  of  doing  so.  It  is  what  you  call  a  feint,  Isn't 
it?  Now  that  man  may  be  very  tired  and  the 
movement  may  cause  him  to  use  up  some  much 
needed  energy,  yet  he  must  do  it  to  deceive  his  op- 
ponent. It's  general  results  which  count.  So  It 
is  with  us — the  real  blow  comes  in  the  south  but 
we  must  make  a  pretense  of  attacking  here  farther 
north  in  order  to  deceive  the  enemy.     It  costs 


A  DEMONSTRATION  ATTACK     217 

some  men,  of  course, — in  other  words,  it  uses  up 
some  of  our  energy — but  the  general  staff  have 
counted  the  cost  and  they  decided  that  three  thou- 
sand men  was  not  too  much  to  pay." 

It  was  quite  logical,  of  course,  but  none  the  less 
horrifying. 

We  walked  out  of  the  dingy  little  room  into  the 
warm  morning  sunshine  where  the  birds  were 
singing.  The  last  of  the  ambulances  was  rattling 
off  over  the  road  in  a  cloud  of  dust.  The  artillery 
on  both  sides  was  silent  and  not  a  machine-gun  or 
rifle  could  be  heard  on  our  sector  of  the  front; 
but  far  off  to  the  south  could  be  heard  a  low  mut- 
tering rumble. 

"That's  the  battle  of  Baranovitchi,"  said  the 
Lieutenant.  "You  can  hear  the  guns  although  it  is 
hundreds  of  miles  away!" 

I  inhaled  deep  breaths  of  the  sweet-scented  air. 
The  sunshine  acted  like  a  tonic  after  the  long 
night's  work,  which  seemed  like  the  memory  of  a 
terrible  dream. 

We  sat  down  to  a  cup  of  coffee  under  the  spread- 
ing apple-tree  and  we  could  see  the  ridge  on  which 
the  German  trenches  lay.  Yesterday  it  had  been 
a  spouting  mass  of  sand  and  smoke,  but  now  it 


2i8  SURGEON  GROW 

shimmered  yellow,  silent  and  deserted  under  the 
dancing  heat  rays. 

The  old  peasant  limped  about  in  his  bare  feet, 
his  loose  white  roohoshka  (shirt)  flapping  in  the 
morning  breeze,  as  he  repaired  the  damage  done 
by  the  German  shells  to  his  beehives. 

Another  scene  of  the  great  drama  had  finished, 
and  except  for  a  few  more  gaps  in  our  brown-clad 
ranks  and  a  few  more  crosses  in  a  little  cemetery, 
the  world  went  on  as  before. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WE  JOIN   BRUSILOFF's   BIG  DRIVE 

A  FTER  the  demonstration  attack,  our  corps 
was  moved  back  near  the  railroad  and  bil- 
leted in  little  villages  which  were  scattered  over 
the  surrounding  territory. 

The  gaps  in  our  ranks  were  rapidly  filled  up 
and  in  a  week  our  corps  received  orders  to  be 
ready  to  entrain  in  four  days. 

Every  one  knew  we  were  going  south  some- 
where, but  to  just  what  point  on  the  line  no  one 
could  be  certain. 

In  the  evening  of  the  third  day  we  moved  our 
entire  outfit  to  the  station,  camping  that  night  in 
a  grove  of  trees  along  the  track. 

The  loading  of  50,000  men,  a  division  of  artil- 
lery, a  regiment  of  Cossacks,  the  staff  and  its  equip- 
ment, to  say  nothing  of  the  enormous  number  of 
little  transport  carts,  with  their  horses,  was  a  dif- 
ficult task. 

The  railroad  was  a  single-track  affair,  with  only 
ai9 


220  SURGEON  GROW 

one  siding.  Nevertheless  the  trains,  each  of  which 
consisted  of  thirty-five  cars,  pulled  out  with  clock- 
like regularity. 

We  had  an  entire  train  for  our  ambulance  col- 
umn. Our  ambulances  were  placed  in  flat  cars, 
the  horses  led  up  planks  into  the  box  cars,  six  in 
each  car,  while  the  personnel  occupied  box  cars 
fitted  with  tiers  of  rough  planks  at  either  end  to 
sleep  upon. 

Russian  troops  are  always  moved  in  this  fash- 
ion, the  coaches  being  reserved  for  the  officers. 
The  Colonel,  the  students  and  I  shared  an  old 
third-class  car  with  some  officers  from  the  staff. 
We  placed  two  field  kitchens  on  a  flat  car  and  our 
food  was  cooked  in  them  while  travelling. 

The  trains  followed  each  other  in  rapid  suc- 
cession, ours  being  in  about  the  middle  of  the  long 
line.  Progress  was  slow  and  breakdowns  were 
frequent. 

At  one  point  we  burned  out  an  axle  bearing  on 
one  of  the  box  cars.  We  stopped  at  a  station  and 
instead  of  cutting  out  this  car,  side-tracking  it  and 
substituting  a  new  one,  which  could  have  been  done 
in  about  ten  minutes,  they  repaired  the  damaged 
one  on  the  main  track!  An  old  bearded  mechanic 
jacked  up  our  car,  seated  himself  on  an  old  stool 


WE  JOIN  BRUSILOFFS  BIG  DRIVE  221 

beside  the  axle,  took  out  the  burned-up  bearing 
and,  with  a  gouge,  cut  a  new  one  out  of  some  soft 
metal  and  fitted  it  to  the  axle.  The  operation 
took  three  hours  and  not  only  held  us  up  for  that 
length  of  time  but  also  the  twelve  trains  back  of 
us. 

After  five  days  we  reached  Rovno  and  de- 
trained. The  fighting  unit  of  the  corps  went  on  by 
rail,  as  telegrams  had  been  received  from  the  corps 
whose  places  we  were  to  take  urging  us  to  speed 
up  as  they  had  suffered  such  losses  from  German 
counter-attacks  that  they  would  be  unable  to  hold 
out  much  longer.  Because  of  lack  of  rail  facili- 
ties, the  transport  and  ambulance  corps  had  to  go 
to  the  fighting  lines  on  their  own  wheels.  Rovno 
was  ninety  miles  from  the  trenches  along  the  River 
Stockhod. 

After  the  fall  of  Warsaw,  the  Austro-German 
forces  had  advanced  within  twenty  miles  of  Rovno, 
where,  in  September,  19 15,  the  Russians  had 
stemmed  their  advance.  Both  sides  then  en- 
trenched and  occupied  the  positions  for  nine 
months. 

When  Brusiloff  started  his  big  drive  in  June, 
19 1 6,  the  Austrians  had  been  forced  back  with 
frightful  losses  until  they  had  been  able  to  check 


222  SURGEON  GROW 

the  Russian  advances  at  the  River  Stockhod.  The 
Russians  had  been  pounding  away  at  this  line, 
trying  to  break  through,  for  several  weeks.  If 
they  could  accomplish  this,  Kovel,  known  as  the 
"key  of  Warsaw,"  would  be  at  their  mercy. 

Kovel  was  an  important  railway  center,  twenty 
miles  beyond  Stockhod  River. 

In  August  the  Germans  had  rushed  up  many 
new  divisions  and  were  putting  up  a  frightful 
defensive  fight. 

"Our  corps  has  a  difficult  task  to  perform,"  said 
Colonel  Kalpaschnecoff,  as  we  rode  along  at  the 
head  of  our  long  column  of  ambulances.  "The 
Stockhod  is  a  series  of  sluggish  streams  running 
through  an  Immense  marsh.  We  will  be  sent 
against  the  Prussian  guard  corps,  which  is  defend- 
ing the  other  bank  of  the  river.  It  promises  to  be 
a  terrible  fight." 

About  eighteen  miles  from  Rovno  we  came  to 
the  first  of  the  old  lines,  which  the  Austrians  had 
held  since  the  fall  of  19 15  and  had  been  forced 
out  of  early  in  August,  just  a  few  weeks  before  we 
arrived. 

Where  our  road  crossed  the  Russian  trench  line, 
we  could  see  the  signs  of  the  intense  fighting  which 
had  occurred  there  a   short  time  before.     The 


WE  JOIN  BRUSILOFFS  BIG  DRIVE  223 

trenches  were  in  a  marshy  field  facing  the  Austri- 
an lines,  which  ran  along  the  border  of  a  swampy 
forest. 

The  Russian  trenches  were  of  the  built-up  type, 
the  ground  being  too  marshy  for  deep  digging. 
Sods  of  earth  formed  a  high  parapet,  which  had 
been  badly  battered  by  Austrian  shell  fire. 

We  crossed  what  had  been  No  Man's  Land  and 
arrived  at  the  abandoned  Austrian  trenches.  They 
were  beautifully  constructed  of  great  timbers,  con- 
crete and  earth.  In  some  places  even  steel  rails 
had  been  cemented  into  place  as  protection  against 
shell  fire. 

We  dismounted  to  make  a  careful  inspection  of 
their  construction.  Near  the  road  stood  a  large; 
structure,  with  thick  walls  of  logs  and  dirt.  Ap- 
parently it  had  been  an  officer's  bomb-proof. 

As  we  tied  our  horses  to  a  tree,  an  old  peas- 
ant, leading  a  child  by  the  hand,  emerged  from  the 
door  of  the  bomb-proof  and  approached  us.  Never 
have  I  seen  a  more  forlorn  spectacle  than  these 
two  presented.  The  old  man  was  in  his  bare  feet, 
he  was  without  a  hat,  his  long  gray  hair  falling 
In  stringy  unkempt  masses  over  his  shoulders,  his 
frame  was  emaciated  and  bent,  and  his  face  had 
not  known  water  for  a  long  time.     His  clothes, 


224  SURGEON  GROW 

mere  rags,  hung  from  his  cadaverous  frame  like 
those  of  a  scare-crow. 

The  child,  too,  presented  a  weird  picture.  It 
was  a  little  boy  about  four  years  old,  clad  in  a 
queer  assortment  of  garments.  On  his  head  was 
a  Russian  soldier's  cap,  many  sizes  too  large,  fall- 
ing down  over  his  ears  and  half  concealing  his 
pinched,  wan  features.  He  wore  an  Austrian 
tunic,  cast  off  by  some  soldier.  It  had  once  been 
gray  but  was  now  faded  to  an  uncertain  color.  It 
had  been  made  for  a  large  man  and  descended  well 
below  the  little  fellow's  knee,  almost  hiding  the 
ragged  homespun  breeches  he  wore,  while  the 
sleeves  dangled  and  flapped  while  he  walked. 

This  strange  pair  came  up  to  us,  the  old  man 
bowing  and  peering  out  from  under  his  shaggy, 
unkempt  hair  with  the  dull  rheumy  eyes  of  age. 

"Please,  Excellencies,"  he  said  as  he  ap- 
proached, "can  you  spare  us  a  little  bread?  We 
have  nothing  to  eat  and  are  starving!" 

The  Colonel  ordered  one  of  the  orderlies  to 
bring  some  food.  The  fires  in  our  field  kitchens, 
which  cook  while  on  the  march,  were  going,  and 
the  orderly  came  back  with  some  steaming  boiled 
beef,  hot  cassia,  and  black  bread.  He  offered  it  to 
the  old  man  and  child.     The  youngster  seized  a 


WE  JOIN  BRUSILOFFS  BIG  DRIVE  225 

piece  of  meat  in  his  claw-like  hands  and  pro- 
ceeded to  bolt  it  like  a  wild  animal.  The  old  man 
fell  on  his  with  equally  ravenous  energy. 

"Have  you  seen  my  mama?"  asked  the  little 
fellow,  his  eyes  full  of  tears,  after  he  had  eaten 
all  that  he  could.  "She  went  away  a  long  time 
ago  and  never  came  back!" 

"Hush,  dear!"  the  old  man  crooned.  "Mama 
will  come  back  to  her  baby  in  a  few  days."  And 
then,  turning  to  us,  he  added:  "He  asks  that  of 
all  the  soldiers  who  march  by  on  the  road.  What 
can  I  do,  Excellencies?  We  have  no  food,  no 
home — only  the  mushrooms  which  I  gather  in  the 
forest  and  what  bread  we  can  beg  from  the  sol- 
diers as  they  pass." 

"Tell  us  what  has  happened,"  replied  the 
Colonel.  "Why  do  you  live  here  in  that  bomb- 
proof?" 

"It  is  a  long  story.  Excellency." 

"Never  mind,  tell  us.  We  must  stop  here  for 
lunch,  and  the  horses  must  be  fed  and  watered." 

The  old  man  seated  himself  at  our  feet  and 
without  further  urging  told  us  his  story. 

"My  name  is  Gregory  Paulovitch  Arapoff.  I 
lived  in  the  village  which  you  will  pass  if  you  fol- 
low that  road.     It  is  eight  miles  back  of  these 


226  SURGEON  GROW 

trenches.  I  lived  with  my  daughter,  who  is  mar- 
ried and  who  is  the  mother  of  this  little  boy.  She 
is  twenty-four  years  old.  Her  husband  Is  thirty- 
eight.  He  had  not  been  called  to  the  colors  when 
the  Austrians  came  to  our  village  last  fall. 

"We  did  not  leave  as  some  of  the  people  did, 
for  we  were  very  poor  and  had  only  our  cabin 
and  what  we  could  raise  on  a  little  patch  of  ground. 
Many  Austrian  soldiers  and  officers  lived  in  our 
village  from  last  summer  up  until  a  few  weeks 
ago.  We  were  ordered  by  the  officers  to  keep 
three  soldiers  In  the  house.  From  time  to  time 
new  soldiers  came  to  live  with  us.  We  also  had 
to  give  part  of  our  potatoes  and  bread,  milk  from 
the  cow,  many  chickens,  and  some  of  our  pigs  to 
the  Austrians,  but  they  always  paid  for  them. 
They  were  not  unkind  to  us.  Excellency,  but  we 
never  grew  to  like  them." 

The  old  man's  arm  stole  around  the  little  child, 
who  had  fallen  asleep  on  the  ground  beside  him. 
He  pressed  the  tiny  form  to  his  sunken  breast. 

"No,  they  were  not  unkind  to  us  at  first,"  he 
continued.  "One  day  early  this  summer  the  sound 
of  the  cannons  Increased  in  volume.  Day  and 
night   we    could   hear   the   steady   roar.      Many 


WE  JOIN  BRUSILOFFS  BIG  DRIVE  227 

wounded  Austrlans  were  brought  to  the  hospital 
in  the  village. 

"The  road  was  filled  with  wagons,  loaded  with 
shells,  and  hundreds  of  soldiers.  We  were  not 
allowed  to  leave  the  village  during  this  time. 

"One  afternoon  four  soldiers  and  an  under-ofE- 
cer  came  to  the  door  of  our  cabin  and  asked  my 
daughter  and  her  husband  to  come  to  the  house 
of  the  officer  who  had  charge  of  the  troops  in 
the  village.  They  called  him  the  commandant. 
We  thought  they  wished  to  buy  more  potatoes  or 
bread.  My  daughter  and  her  husband  left  me 
to  take  care  of  the  little  boy.  They  expected  to 
be  gone  only  a  few  minutes,  as  it  was  not  far  to 
the  house  of  the  commandant,  and  they  did  not 
even  kiss  the  boy  good-bye.  He  was  playing  on 
the  floor  of  the  isba — cabin — when  they  left. 

"I  sat  by  the  stove  waiting  for  them  to  return. 
Time  passed  and  I  was  just  thinking  they  had 
been  gone  a  long  time  when  the  door  flew  open 
and  in  rushed  a  neighbor.  He  was  a  man  nearly 
as  old  as  myself,  Excellency.  His  name  was 
Michael.  He  lived  but  two  doors  away  with  his 
only  daughter  Olga.  His  wife  was  dead  many 
years.    I  scarcely  knew  him  as  he  rushed  in.    He 


228  SURGEON  GROW 

was  wild,  his  clothes  were  torn,  and  blood  ran 
down  his  face  from  a  cut  over  his  eye. 

"'Gregory!  Gregory!'  he  screamed,  'they 
have  taken  my  little  daughter,  my  pretty  one,  my 
Olechka !' 

"Froth  drooled  from  his  mouth  and  ran  down 
his  beard,  his  eyes  blazed,  and  he  beat  his  breast 
with  his  clenched  lists. 

"'Man!  Man!'  I  said,  rising  from  my  chair, 
'be  quiet  and  tell  me  what  has  happened!' 

"He  sat  down  on  a  bench  and  buried  his  face 
in  his  hands,  rocking  to  and  fro. 

"  'The  Russians  are  coming  and  the  Austrians 
are  leaving  the  village.  They  are  taking  with 
them  all  the  young  people;  and  are  leaving  the  old, 
such  as  you  and  I,  who  would  be  only  a  burden 
to  them.  They  came  to  my  house  and  asked  for 
my  Olga' — she  was  a  pretty  girl.  Excellency,  not 
quite  seventeen — 'I  asked  them  what  they  wanted 
of  her,  but  they  did  not  answer  and  tried  to  push 
by  me  at  the  door,  but  I  barred  the  way.  There 
were  four  soldiers  and  an  officer  in  the  party.  The 
officer  struck  me  with  his  riding  crop,  felling  me  to 
the  floor.  I  tried  to  rise  but  a  soldier  jumped  on 
me  and  held  me  down.  The  others  rushed  into 
place  and  seized  my  daughter  and  dragged  her 


WE  JOIN  BRUSILOFFS  BIG  DRIVE  229 

shrieking  from  the  house.  Then  they  tied  my 
hands  and  feet  and  left  me  lying  there.  I  worked 
my  hands  free  and,  unloosing  my  fetters,  ran  here, 
thinking  you  would  know  where  they  took  my 
daughter.    Hark,  what  is  that?' 

"Then,  Excellency,  I  heard  a  terrible  sound — 
the  shrieks  of  women  and  the  wailing  of  little 
children.  'Come !'  I  cried  to  Michael,  and  we  ran 
from  the  house,  picking  up  my  grandson  as  we 
rushed  to  the  street. 

"I  knew  now  why  they  had  sent  for  my  daughter 
and  her  husband,  and  I  ran  down  the  village  street 
toward  the  house  where  they  had  asked  her  to 
come. 

"A  terrible  sight  met  my  eyes.  Austrian  soldiers 
were  going  about  setting  fire  to  the  houses,  many 
of  which  were  already  burning  fiercely.  Along 
the  roadside,  in  front  of  her  house,  lay  the  body 
of  old  Marsha,  who  lived  only  four  doors  from 
me.  Blood  flowed  from  her  chest.  I  stopped,  but 
she  did  not  move  or  breathe  so  I  ran  on.  I  ran 
very  fast.  Excellency — even  carrying  this  child, 
I  outdistanced  Michael,  who  has  always  had 
something  wrong  with  his  heart. 

"At  the  end  of  the  village  street,  several  com- 
panies of  Austrians  were  drawn  up  In  a  hollow 


230  SURGEON  GROW 

square,  with  the  bayonets  fixed  on  their  guns.  In- 
side the  square  were  all  the  young  people  of  the 
village.  Barring  my  way  was  a  line  of  soldiers 
drawn  up  across  the  road.  They  also  had  their 
bayonets  fixed.  The  girls  and  young  women  were 
weeping.  In  front  of  the  line  of  soldiers  were 
several  of  the  old  people  of  the  village.  Some 
were  down  on  their  knees,  begging  that  their  dear 
ones  be  allowed  to  remain.  One  of  the  old  men 
tried  to  force  his  way  through  the  lines,  but  he 
was  flung  back  by  the  Austrians. 

"I  rushed  up  to  an  officer  who  was  standing 
there  and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  go  with  my 
daughter.  He  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked 
away.  Then  I  heard  a  loud  shriek  and  saw  my 
daughter  throw  herself  on  one  of  the  soldiers  and 
try  to  break  through  the  line  of  guards.  The  sol- 
dier struck  her  full  in  the  face,  knocking  her  down, 
and  threatened  her  with  his  bayonet  as  she  lay 
in  the  dust  of  the  road.  I  saw  my  son-in-law.  His 
hat  was  gone.  His  head  was  bowed  and  his  hands 
were  tied  behind  his  back.  His  clothing  was  torn. 
He,  too,  had  evidently  struggled  with  the  Austri- 
ans. 

"An  order  was  shouted  and  they  started  off 
down  the  road.     One  of  the  soldiers  picked  my 


WE  JOIN  BRUSILOFFS  BIG  DRIVE  231 

daughter  up  from  the  ground,  half  dragging  her 
along  as  they  went. 

"Then  Michael,  whom  I  had  outdistanced,  ran 
up.  His  face  was  purple  and  his  breath  coming 
in  gasps.  He  saw  his  daughter  weeping  inside 
that  square  of  soldiers.  With  a  wild  cry  he  picked 
up  a  club  which  was  lying  on  the  ground  and 
dashed  at  the  line  of  soldiers  who  barred  his 
way.  Straight  at  one  of  the  soldiers  he  went  and 
struck  a  savage  blow  with  the  club.  The  Austrian 
was  a  huge  fellow  and  easily  parried  the  blow 
with  his  rifle. 

"Then  I  saw  the  soldier  give  a  quick  lunge  and 
Michael  threw  up  his  hands,  dropping  the  club 
and  clutching  his  breast.  I  saw  several  inches  of 
steel  bayonet  sticking  out  from  between  his  shoul- 
der-blades and  a  red  streak  of  blood  staining  his 
white  roohoshka  (shirt).  He  fell  to  the  ground, 
carrying  the  rifle  with  him.  It  stuck  upright  from 
his  body.  The  Austrian  put  his  big  hob-nailed  boot 
upon  Michael's  chest,  gave  a  heave,  and  jerked 
the  bayonet  out.  Michael  rolled  over  several 
times  and  coughed,  spitting  out  mouthfuls  of 
blood.  Finally  he  lay  quiet. 

"By  this  time  the  young  folks  and  their  guards 


232  SURGEON  GROW 

were  far  off  down  the  road.  I,  a  feeble  old  man, 
could  do  nothing. 

"Austrian  troops  came  pouring  through  the  vil- 
lage, which  was  now  burning  fiercely.  The  roads 
were  choked  with  columns  of  artillery  and  ambu- 
lances, all  retreating  as  fast  as  possible,  their  driv- 
ers yelling  and  swearing.  Automobiles  carrying 
officers  dashed  madly  back  and  forth.  Panic  was 
in  the  air. 

"All  the  time  I  tightly  held  my  little  grandson 
in  my  arms.  He  was  wild  with  fright,  screaming 
and  crying  and  trying  to  escape  from  my  grasp  to 
follow  his  mother  down  the  road. 

"Finally  I  could  no  longer  see  our  people.  They 
were  hidden  by  clouds  of  dust,  which  rose  from 
the  road.  Only  a  few  of  the  old  folks  remained. 
They  stood  stupidly  about,  not  knowing  what  to 
do  next. 

"I  walked  back  toward  my  house,  but  it  was 
in  flames.  The  heat  was  terrific  and  I  circled  the 
village  by  way  of  the  fields.  I  could  hear  the  sound 
of  rifles  and  machine-guns.  Some  wounded  Austri- 
an soldiers  came  staggering  down  the  road,  mak- 
ing for  the  rear  as  fast  as  they  could  go. 

"The  fighting  was  getting  closer  and  closer. 
Russian  shells  started  to  whistle  and  burst  over 


WE  JOIN  BRUSILOFFS  BIG  DRIVE  233 

the  road,  and  I  made  off  across  the  fields  for  the 
forest.  I  found  a  large  tree  which  had  fallen 
down,  the  limbs  holding  the  trunk  slightly  off  the 
ground.  There  was  just  room  enough  to  hide  a 
man's  body.  It  was  just  growing  dusk,  so  I  sat 
down  In  the  bushes  beside  the  log. 

"Some  Austrian  soldiers  came  running  through 
the  woods,  rifles  and  machine-guns  crashed  all 
about,  and  the  noise  was  terrible.  I  crawled  un- 
der the  log  and  hid,  covering  the  little  child  with 
my  body,  while  bullets  whistled  and  cracked  over 
my  head  and  more  Austrlans  ran  by,  firing  their 
rifles  as  they  went. 

"Presently  I  heard  Russian  words  spoken  near 
me,  but  the  firing  continued  as  I  lay  still. 

"I  saw  several  soldiers  creeping  forward  cau- 
tiously— ^they  were  Russian  soldiers.  The  firing 
gradually  got  farther  away,  and  when  more  of 
our  soldiers  came  up  I  crawled  out  from  under  the 
log  and  called  to  them.  They  came  over  and 
talked  with  me,  and  an  officer  who  was  with  them 
detailed  a  soldier  to  carry  the  child,  for  I  was 
exhausted  from  the  exertion  and  the  excitement. 

"He  led  the  way  through  the  forest  to  this  very 
road,  which  was  full  of  Russian  artillery  moving 


234  SURGEON  GROW 

up  In  the  direction  of  our  village,  and  stretcher- 
bearers  carrying  the  wounded  back. 

"We  went  down  the  road  almost  to  where  wc 
are  now  seated  and  came  to  a  dressing  station. 
The  doctor  in  charge  was  very  kind  and  gave  us 
some  food  and  a  place  to  sleep  in  his  tent,  but  the 
next  morning  he  received  orders  to  move  up  closer 
to  the  fighting  line,  and  as  he  could  not  take  us 
with  him,  we  had  to  remain  here. 

"Since  then,  we  have  lived  in  these  old  Austri- 
an trenches,  sleeping  at  night  in  that  bomb-proof. 
Sometimes  soldiers  go  by  on  the  road  and  they 
always  give  us  food.  What  we  will  do  when  the 
winter  comes  on  I  do  not  know.  Occasionally  I 
go  back  to  where  the  village  stood.  Nothing  re- 
mains there  but  ruins,  but  I  go  because  I  think 
possibly  my  daughter  or  her  husband  may  escape 
and  get  back  to  the  village  looking  for  us,  but 
nobody  is  ever  there.  Sometimes  I  meet  some  of 
my  old  neighbors  who  are  living  In  the  forest  be- 
yond the  village.  Do  you  think  my  daughter  will 
escape  from  the  Austrians,  Excellency?" 

The  old  man  sat  holding  the  sleeping  child,  sup- 
porting it  with  his  arm,  while  his  claw-like  fingers 
stroked  its  golden  hair. 

"Can't  we  send  him  back  to  Rovno  with  a  note 


WE  JOIN  BRUSILOFFS  BIG  DRIVE  235 

to  the  Red  Cross  asking  them  to  look  out  for 
him?"  I  inquired  of  the  Colonel. 

"Yes ;  I  think  that  is  the  best  thing  to  do,"  he 
replied. 

Our  column  had  stopped,  the  horses  were  being 
fed  and  watered  and  the  orderlies  were  having 
their  dinner.  The  Colonel  had  our  much  battered 
victoria  brought  up  and  food  was  placed  under 
the  seat  for  the  old  man,  the  child  and  the  driver. 
We  gave  him  enough  money  to  last  him  for  sev- 
eral months  and  a  note  to  the  head  of  the  Red 
Cross  in  Rovno. 

At  first  he  did  not  wish  to  go,  hoping  that  his 
daughter  might  escape  and  return  to  the  village, 
but  we  assured  him  that  this  was  impossible  and 
promised  to  leave  word  with  any  villagers  that 
we  might  meet  where  he  could  be  found,  and  they 
drove  off. 

"I  am  surprised  at  such  atrocities  from  the 
Austrians,"  said  the  Colonel,  as  we  rode  off.  "They 
have  always  been  more  humane  than  the  Ger- 
mans. However,  they  receive  their  orders  from 
the  German  General  Staff  and  are  completely  un- 
der the  domination  of  Berlin — so  we  may  expect 
anything  from  them." 

"What  do  you  think  will  become  of  the  girls 


236  SURGEON  GROW 

those  Austrians  carried  off?"  I  asked,  referring 
to  the  mother  of  the  little  boy  and  Michael's 
daughter. 

"What  happened  to  the  women  who  were  seized 
by  the  Huns  in  the  old  days  when  they  fought  with 
clubs  and  spears?"  the  Colonel  rejoined. 

"You  think,  then,  the  very  worst  that  can  hap- 
pen to  a  woman?"  I  queried,  horrified  by  the 
thought. 

"Without  any  question!"  said  the  Colonel;  and 
we  rode  on  in  silence,  each  busy  with  his  own 
thoughts. 

An  hour  later  we  came  to  the  little  village  in 
which  the  old  peasant  Gregory  and  his  daughter 
and  little  grandson  had  lived,  happy  and  content 
with  their  little  existence.  It  was  now  only  a 
charred  mass  of  ruins,  scarcely  one  log  resting 
upon  another. 

Beyond  the  village  we  passed  fields  of  rye  and 
wheat,  the  over-ripe  grain  falling  to  the  ground 
from  the  dry  heads.  A  cloud  of  sparrows  and 
wild  pigeons  rose  from  its  yellow  surface  as  we 
rode  by.  They  were  the  only  harvesters  for  that 
crop. 

Near  the  fields  we  met  several  old  men  and 
women  seated  along  the  roadside  who  asked  us 


WE  JOIN  BRUSILOFFS  BIG  DRIVE  237 

for  food.  They  were  dirty  and  unkempt,  in  all 
variety  of  ragged  garments,  and  were  the  most 
pitiful  objects  one  could  imagine. 

We  questioned  them  and  they  informed  us  they 
were  from  the  same  village  as  Gregory.  We  told 
them  where  he  and  the  little  boy  could  be  found. 
They,  too,  were  living  in  the  forest  on  what  they 
could  pick  up — more  like  wild  animals  than  human 
beings.  We  left  them  sufficient  food  for  several 
days  and  continued  on  our  journey. 

For  two  days  we  rode  through  a  belt  of  dev- 
astated territory,  with  the  sound  of  drum-fire  in 
our  ears  day  and  night  coming  from  far  off  in  the 
west  where  lay  the  River  Stockhod. 

The  terrible  marks  of  the  gigantic  war  machine 
which  had  rolled  over  the  beautiful  countryside 
were  Indelibly  Impressed  on  everything.  In  one 
of  the  swamps  the  Colonel  and  I  discovered  an  en- 
tire battery  of  six-inch  howitzers,  a  number  of 
caissons,  and  a  great  quantity  of  shells  for  the 
guns.  Nobody  else  had  found  them — they  were 
so  carefully  screened  In  the  heart  of  the  swamp. 
They  had  been  brought  there  over  corduroy  roads 
to  a  high  spot  where  the  ground  was  dry  and  there 
they  had  been  placed.  The  Austrians  had  been 
too  hard-pressed  to  get  them  out,  and  apparently 


238  SURGEON  GROW 

had  neglected  to  blow  up  the  shells  or  even  to 
destroy  the  breech  blocks  of  the  guns.  There 
they  were,  their  squat  gray  muzzles  pointed  to- 
ward the  northeast — toward  the  Russian  trenches 
abandoned  a  month  ago. 

It  seemed  scarcely  credible  that  they  should 
have  remained  there  so  long  without  discovery, 
and  yet  we  only  stumbled  upon  them  while  explor- 
ing the  roads  and  having  become  lost  from  our 
columns.  We  took  a  short-cut  to  catch  up  and 
happened  to  cross  this  swamp,  using  the  road 
which  nobody  had  traversed  since  the  day  the 
Austrians  had  fled. 

All  along  the  roadside  were  isolated  wooden 
crosses,  marking  the  fresh  graves  of  both  Austri- 
an and  Russian  dead.  Where  large  engagements 
had  been  fought,  there  were  great  cemeteries  with 
hundreds  of  these  crosses,  the  Russians  placing 
their  dead  in  the  cemeteries  which  the  Austrians 
had  established  before  being  driven  out. 

I  saw  by  my  field  map  that  we  should  be  near 
the  town  of  Kolky,  on  the  River  Styr.  Its  name 
was  printed  in  large  letters  and  I  knew  that  it 
must  be  a  place  of  importance.  The  country  was 
flat,  the  road  stretched  ahead  as  straight  as  a 
string,  and  I  looked  for  the  onion-shaped  church- 


WE  JOIN  BRUSILOFFS  BIG  DRIVE  239 

steeple  and  the  straw-thatched  houses  which  mark 
every  town  in  Russia  and  which  we  ought  to  have 
been  able  to  see  plainly,  as  we  were  but  two  miles 
away,  according  to  the  map.  Not  a  sign  of  them 
could  we  see. 

We  rode  forward  a  couple  of  miles  and  then, 
alongside  the  road,  I  saw  acres  and  acres  of  tum- 
bled stone  and  brick  and  burned  timbers  scattered 
about  over  the  ground,  as  though  some  giant  hand 
had  flung  them  there. 

'That's  Kolky!"  declared  the  Colonel. 

"KolkyI"  I  repeated  in  astonishment.  "Why, 
I  thought  Kolky  was  quite  a  town!" 

"It  was.  It  had  a  population  of  seven  thou- 
sand. But  It  changed  hands  ten  times  and  this  is 
all  that's  left!" 

All  traces  of  any  system  of  streets  was  entirely 
effaced,  the  road  we  followed  having  been  cleared 
by  the  troops  which  preceded  us  through  the  heaps 
of  piled-up  rubbish.  Not  a  sign  of  a  human  being 
was  visible. 

It  was  growing  dark  and  we  halted  our  horses 
in  the  midst  of  this  scene  of  desolation.  Several 
cadaverous-looking  cats  prowled  around  a  heaped- 
up  pile  of  masonry  beside  the  roadside.  A  black 
dog,  his  ribs  showing  on  his  gaunt  side,  came  up 


240  SURGEON  GROW 

and  sniffed  at  us  with  a  hungry  air.  He,  too, 
looked  forlorn  and  desolate  as  he  circled  about 
trying  to  determine  if  we  were  friend  or  foe.  I 
tossed  him  the  remains  of  a  lunch  which  I  had  in 
my  saddle-bag  and  he  devoured  it  ravenously. 

A  strong  raw  wind  had  sprung  up,  bringing 
with  It  a  cold  drizzle,  and  I  wrapped  my  rubber 
poncho  tightly  around  me,  for  the  rain  and  wind 
chilled  me  to  the  bone. 

We  spurred  up  our  horses  and  rode  ahead  to 
find  a  place  to  spend  the  night.  If  we  could  find 
a  place  dry  enough  for  ourselves  and  our  orderlies 
to  spend  the  night  we  would  save  the  time  and 
trouble  required  to  put  up  a  tent  in  the  darkness. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  town,  screened  by  some 
shell-torn  trees,  we  found  a  couple  of  stone  houses, 
badly  battered  but  still  retaining  enough  of  their 
walls  and  roofs  to  accommodate  our  party.  We 
sent  word  back  to  the  column  to  move  up,  and 
when  they  arrived  the  horses  were  unhitched  and 
tied  to  the  ambulances  and  given  their  supper. 

We  spent  a  miserable  night  in  the  dilapidated 
house.  Some  time  in  the  night  I  was  awakened 
by  cold  water  soaking  through  my  blankets,  and 
I  felt  some  heavy  weight  on  my  legs,  as  though 
some  one  were  sitting  on  them.     I  reached  for  my 


WE  JOIN  BRUSILOFF'S  BIG  DRIVE  241 

flashlight  and  flashed  it  in  the  direction  of  the 
weight,  disclosing  the  wretched  dog  that  I  had  fed 
that  afternoon.  He  was  soaking  wet  and  looked 
even  more  pathetic  than  before.  I  made  him  a 
bed  in  the  corner  and  he  curled  himself  up  with 
the  utmost  satisfaction. 

The  next  morning  we  crossed  the  River  Styr 
on  a  bridge  which  the  Russians  had  hastily  con- 
structed in  their  pursuit  of  the  Austrlans  and 
which  replaced  the  one  which  the  retreating  Aus- 
trlans had  destroyed.  The  dog  followed  at  the 
heels  of  my  horse,  having  apparently  adopted  me 
as  his  master,  and  he  remained  with  me  for  sev- 
eral weeks,  when  he  disappeared — ^belng  probably 
appropriated  by  some  soldiers  as  a  regiment 
mascot. 

After  crossing  the  river,  we  travelled  the  entire 
day  over  a  military  road  built  by  the  Austrlans 
straight  through  the  heart  of  an  enormous  swamp. 
The  Colonel  said  they  had  used  Russian  prisoners 
to  construct  this  marvellous  piece  of  work.  Huge 
pilings  had  been  driven  into  the  marshy  ground, 
projecting  about  eight  feet  above  the  surface  of 
the  mud.  On  these  pilings  rested  the  bed  of  the 
road  made  of  hand  hewn  square  timber.  It  was 
sixty  feet  wide,  as  level  as  a  floor,  and  ran  straight 


242  SURGEON  GROW 

as  an  arrow  for  forty  miles !  The  Austrlans  had 
attempted  to  burn  it  in  various  places  as  they 
hastily  retreated,  but  the  timber  was  green  and 
not  very  inflammable  and  little  damage  had  been 
done.  At  other  points  large  sections  had  been 
blown  up  by  explosives,  but  these  had  been  re- 
paired by  the  pursuing  Russians. 

The  efficiency  of  the  Austrians  revealed  by  this 
gigantic  piece  of  work  served  to  increase  our  re- 
spect for  the  enemy  we  were  shortly  to  meet,  and 
the  sound  of  the  big  guns  thundering  along  the 
line  of  the  Stockhod  River  far  off  in  the  west  told 
us  that  the  conflict  was  raging  fiercely. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  STOCKHOD 

A  S  we  approached  the  Stockhod,  the  sound  of 
the  cannonade  grew  louder  and  we  began  to 
meet  regiments  of  Siberians  hurriedly  marching 
toward  the  fighting  line.  We  received  word  to 
speed  up  our  troops,  as  we  were  needed  to  relieve 
a  division  which  had  suffered  heavy  losses. 

We  according  left  the  heavy  luggage  transport 
wagons  In  a  forest  about  five  miles  back  of  the 
positions  and  pushed  on  with  all  speed,  taking  only 
the  ambulances  and  a  wagon  carrying  surgical 
material. 

When  we  reached  the  high  ground  three  miles 
back  from  the  river  we  could  plainly  trace  out  the 
fighting  line  for  many  miles  north  and  south  by 
the  Great  German  observation  balloons  hanging 
suspended  In  the  air  back  of  their  lines.  From 
one  hill  I  counted  eight  of  them.  The  Russians 
called  them  "sausages." 

Shrapnel  could  be  seen  bursting  over  the  trench 
243 


244  SURGEON  GROW 

lines  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see  up  and  down  the 
river.  Our  road  was  fortunately  well  screened 
by  forest  and  we  were  able  to  bring  our  ambu- 
lances up  to  within  half  a  mile  of  the  trenches. 

We  established  our  main  dressing  station  in  the 
woods  alongside  the  road  which  ran  down  to  the 
trenches.  From  this  point  on,  the  road  was  ex- 
posed to  observation,  as  only  stunted  trees  grew 
along  the  sides. 

The  dressing  station  was  hastily  constructed 
from  a  piece  of  canvas  stretched  over  a  frame- 
work of  poles.  Sods  were  piled  up  around  the 
four  sides  as  a  protection  against  H  E  shells  and 
rifle  bullets.  There  was  no  time  to  construct  a 
dug-out.  The  entire  thing  we  covered  with  boughs 
to  hide  it  from  aeroplanes,  and  we  placed  the  Red 
Cross  flag  carefully  beneath  a  small  pine-tree 
where  it  was  visible  only  to  the  wounded  soldiers 
as  they  passed  by  on  the  road. 

As  it  grew  dark  I  took  some  orderlies  and  two 
students  into  the  trenches  and  established  an  ad- 
vance dressing  station  in  a  support-trench  about 
one  hundred  yards  back  of  the  fire-trench  in  a 
large  dug-out  which  we  found  there. 

The  first-line  trenches  were  in  marshy  ground 
and  were  very  shallow  affairs.    They  afforded  lit- 


A  dressing  station  during  the  battle  of  Stockhod.     Note  the  crude  struc- 
ture and  camouflage  of  branches  hastily  flung  on.     It  was  the  habit  of 
Germans  to  fire  on  the  Russian  Red  Cross  stations,  so  that  great  precau- 
tions had  to  be  taken. 


Type  of  two-wheeled  springless  cart  that  served  as  ambulance  on  the 

Russian  front.     Often  the  wounded  travelled  from  30  to  40  miles  over 

frightful  roads  in  these  carts,  owing  to  the  great  distances  in  Russia  and 

the  scarcity  of  railroads. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  STOCKHOD    245- 

tie  protection  from  the  heavy  shell  fire  that  the 
Austro-Germans  were  pouring  in  on  them.  Our 
Siberians  had  just  taken  them  over  in  the  after- 
noon. 

Looking  out  over  No  Man's  Land,  I  wondered 
how  it  would  be  possible  to  make  a  successful  at- 
tack. It  was  a  great  quaking  marsh  grown  up  with 
reeds  and  cattails.  The  Stockhod  River  flowed 
through  it,  dividing  at  this  point  into  three  branch- 
es, each  about  thirty  yards  wide.  The  German 
trenches  were  about  four  hundred  yards  away  on 
top  of  some  sand-hills  which  sloped  up  from  the 
marsh.  Down  the  sides  of  these  hills  could  be 
seen  the  gray  haze  of  belts  of  barbed  wire.  There 
were  two  of  these  hedges,  each  about  forty  feet 
deep,  with  a  bare  strip  thirty  feet  wide  separat- 
ing them. 

A  road  ran  across  the  swamp,  crossing  the 
three  branches  of  the  river  by  small  wooden 
bridges,  now  destroyed  by  the  Austro-Germans  as 
they  retreated.  This  road  had  been  built  up  with 
dirt  about  two  feet  aboive  the  surface  of  the 
swamp.  Nothing  could  pass  over  it  now,  for  it 
was  under  the  direct  fire  from  their  machine-guns 
and  artillery  and  was  blocked  at  the  further  end 
by  great  barriers  of  barbed  wire. 


246  SURGEON  GROW 

Our  artillery,  from  the  cover  of  the  forest  in 
the  rear,  was  pounding  the  German  barbed  wire 
and  first-line  trenches  in  preparation  for  an  at- 
tack by  the  infantry.  The  Germans  were  retaliat- 
ing with  a  brisk  cannonade  on  our  first-line  and 
communication-trenches  and  on  the  roads  leading 
up  to  them.  We  were  beginning  to  have  a  few 
casualties  from  this  heavy  fire,  so  that  there  was 
work  for  us  as  soon  as  we  got  our  dressing  sta- 
tion set  up. 

I  found  my  friend  Muhanoff  with  his  company 
in  the  fire-line.  He  had  just  received  his  cap- 
taincy a  few  days  before. 

"You  are  a  kind,  dear  friend,"  he  declared 
when  I  congratulated  him  on  his  promotion;  "but, 
do  you  know,  I  feel  sure  that  I  shall  be  a  captain 
for  only  a  few  days.  For  some  weeks  I  have 
had  a  premonition  of  impending  death  and  I  feel 
positive  that  it  will  come  in  the  next  few  days." 

I  tried  to  reassure  him,  but  I  don't  think  I 
made  much  impression. 

"This  is  going  to  be  a  difficult  place  to  get 
across,"  he  continued.  "Just  look  at  that  marsh. 
When  you  walk  out  on  it,  they  say,  it  quakes  like 
so  much  gelatin  and  you  sink  in  above  your  knees 
at  each  step. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  STOCKHOD    247 

"The  Germans  have  certainly  selected  a  beau- 
tiful line  of  defense.  They  command  every  Inch 
of  It  from  their  position  on  the  sand-hills. 

"Did  you  hear  about  the  artillery  observers 
who  went  out  on  the  marsh  between  the  lines?" 
he  asked. 

"No,"  I  replied;  "what's  the  story?" 

"Well,  It  shows  what  kind  of  ground  we'll  have 
to  go  over  when  we  attack — which,  judging  from 
the  sound  of  our  artillery,  will  be  sometime  to- 
morrow morning,  about  the  time  when  it  becomes 
gray.  It  happened  this  morning.  Just  at  dawn 
an  officer  observer  and  four  telephone  men  crawled 
out  on  the  marsh  to  establish  an  advanced  obser- 
vation point  between  the  first  two  branches  of  the 
river.  The  telephone  men  carried  with  them  the 
reel  holding  the  wire,  which  they  unwound  as  they 
advanced,  letting  It  lay  on  the  ground  In  back  of 
them  as  Is  the  usual  method.  They  crawled  out 
under  a  cover  of  grass  and  reeds  and  reached  the 
spot  where  they  were  to  locate  the  observation 
point.  They  hooked  up  their  telephone  and  as  it 
became  light  called  up  the  battery  saying  that 
everything  was  prepared  to  spot  the  shell-breaks 
and  correct  the  range  when  the  battery  began  to 
fire.    They  were  lying  close  together,  concealed  In 


248  SURGEON  GROW 

the  reeds.  The  battery  fired  several  shots  but  no 
word  came  back  from  the  observer  and  his  crew. 
The  battery  commander  called  repeatedly  to  his 
observer,  but  the  line  was  dead.  He  concluded 
that  German  shell  had  hit  the  wire  and  broken 
it,  as  sometimes  occurs,  or  that  the  connections  had 
become  separated  in  some  other  way.  He  sent  a 
lineman  out  from  the  battery  to  follow  the  wire, 
find  the  break  and  mend  it.  The  man  found 
everything  intact  through  the  forest  where  the 
wire  was  strung  on  the  branches  of  trees  and 
he  continued  on  to  the  trench  lines  and  then 
crawled  out  on  to  the  marsh  and  through  the  reeds, 
and  still  he  could  find  no  break.  He  kept  on,  how- 
ever, going  carefully  over  the  quaking  bog  on  his 
hands  and  knees.  Finally  he  came  to  the  first 
branch  of  the  river.  The  wire  stretched  out  be- 
fore him,  clearing  the  river  by  being  stretched 
from  the  reed  which  held  it  up.  He  got  into  the 
stream,  sheltered  from  the  sight  of  the  Germans 
by  the  banks,  and  waded  across.  The  wire  ran 
straight  to  the  center  of  a  tangled  growth  of  vege- 
tation on  that  little  island.  The  soft  mud  and 
rotting  stuff  shook  beneath  his  weight  so  that 
he  was  fearful  of  sinking  through.  He  crawled 
carefully  on  and  was  astonished  to  find  the  wire 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  STOCKHOD    249 

running  right  down  into  the  mud  in  the  center  of 
a  funnel-shaped  depression.  He  pulled  on  the 
wire  and  felt  something  heavy  on  the  end.  He 
carefully  hauled  it  up,  hand  over  hand,  getting  in 
six  or  eight  feet,  and  then  through  the  oozy  mud 
appeared  the  receiver  and  transmitter  which,  as 
you  know,  in  the  field  telephone  is  in  one  piece. 
Not  a  sign  could  he  find  of  the  officer  or  the  four 
men  except  the  cap  of  one  lying  on  the  edge  of 
the  funnel-shaped  depression.  He  cleaned  the  re- 
ceiver of  mud  and  water  and  called  up  the  battery 
and  reported  the  obvious  solution  of  the  mystery. 
The  group  of  five  men  had  been  too  heavy  for 
the  surface  of  the  bog  to  hold.  The  tangled  weeds 
with  their  roots  form  a  sort  of  surface  covering 
the  liquid  mass  beneath,  but  there  is  a  limit  to  its 
capacity,  and  down  the  five  men  had  gone  into 
that  sticking,  bottomless  ooze,  where  they  were 
drowned  or  suffocated  in  a  few  moments — and 
that,  my  boy,  is  the  terrain  over  which  we  must 
attack  to-morrow  morning." 

"Look  at  those  crows  out  there  on  the  marsh!" 
I  exclaimed,  pointing  to  a  flock  of  the  great  black 
birds  as  they  rose  heavily  out  of  the  reeds  and 
circled  about  over  the  surface  of  the  swamp,  finally 


250  SURGEON  GROW 

settling  down  again  in  the  same  spot  in  which  they 

had  risen. 

''Something  dead  out  there,"  commented  the 
Captain.  "That's  why  they  stay  despite  the  sound 
of  the  artillery.  They  don't  seem  to  mind  the  noise 
as  long  as  there  is  something  to  eat.  Imagine  hav- 
ing them  pick  at  your  dead  carcass !  Ugh !"  and 
he  shuddered  as  he  contemplated  the  disgusting 
scene. 

Some  time  later  I  recalled  his  horror  at  these 
vile  birds,  and  the  recollection  steeled  me  to  do 
something  which  I  scarcely  believe  I  should  other- 
wise have  attempted. 

"I  must  be  getting  back  to  the  dressing  station 
and  see  that  everything  is  in  order,"  I  said,  rising 
from  the  fire-step  where  I  had  been  sitting.  "Come 
and  see  me  to-morrow  and  tell  me  how  the  attack 
came  off." 

He  promised  to  come  but,  as  we  shook  hands, 
he  added:     "If  I  get  back  from  the  attack." 

I  reached  the  main  dressing  station  on  the  edge 
of  the  woods  without  any  adventure,  although  the 
Germans  were  pounding  our  positions  pretty  se- 
verely. A  few  wounded  were  coming  in.  They 
had  been  wounded  by  the  shells.  There  was 
enough  work  to  keep  me  up  all  night.     Our  artil- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  STOCKHOD    251 

lery  was  going  full  blast  and  the  Germans  dropped 
a  few  shells  unpleasantly  near  us  during  the  night 
but  we  had  no  casualties  in  our  personnel. 

Just  as  dawn  was  beginning  to  break  I  heard 
the  tell-tale  sound  of  machine-guns  and  rifles,  and 
going  out  onto  the  road  could  see  the  rockets 
shooting  up  which  heralded  the  attack  as  the  Cap- 
tain had  predicted. 

A  village  back  of  the  German  lines  was  burn- 
ing, set  on  fire  by  our  shells,  casting  a  lurid  red 
glare  on  the  clouded  sky. 

In  a  short  time  the  lighter  form  of  wounds — 
hand  and  arm  cases — came  pouring  down  the 
road,  making  for  the  dressing  station,  and  we  were 
all  soon  hard  at  work.  After  about  half  an  hour 
the  rifle  and  machine-gun  fire  slackened  and  we 
knew  the  attack  was  over. 

The  attack  was  unsuccessful.  The  German 
barbed  wire  had  not  been  blown  up  sufficiently  to 
make  large  gaps  for  our  troops  to  get  through 
and  the  Germans  had  an  enormous  number  of 
machine-guns  on  the  sand-hills  which  had  not  been 
put  out  of  action.  After  suffering  heavy  losses 
on  the  marshy  ground,  our  attack  had  broken 
down  after  almost  reaching  the  German  first-line, 
and  what  soldiers  were  left  were  forced  to  come 


252  SURGEON  GROW 

back.  All  the  wounded  were  soaking  wet  from 
fording  the  river,  and  all  complained  of  the  dif- 
ficulty of  advancing  rapidly  through  the  mud. 

One  fellow,  a  fine  strapping  lad  of  about  twenty- 
six,  wounded  by  a  bullet  through  the  shoulder, 
wept  bitterly  while  I  was  dressing  his  wound.  I 
thought  it  was  from  the  pain  and  told  him  that 
it  would  stop  hurting  in  a  few  minutes. 

"It  is  not  the  pain  of  the  wound,  Excellency," 
he  sobbed.  "I'm  used  to  that.  This  is  the  third 
time  I've  been  wounded.  But  now  I've  got  to  go 
to  the  base  hospital  for  heaven  knows  how  long, 
and  so  far  I  have  never  even  seen  a  German,  much 
less  get  my  bayonet  into  one!" 

The  Russian  soldier  can  stand  more  pain  with- 
out a  murmur  that  I  had  believed  it  possible  for 
the  human  organism  to  bear.  They  were  the  most 
patient,  enduring  fellows,  and  as  fine  soldiers  as 
I  think  the  world  has  ever  seen.  I  speak  of  the 
old  days — when  we  had  good  morale  and  disci- 
pline in  the  Russian  army.  These  men  simply 
could  not  be  downed.  They  would  sit  in  the 
trenches  and  be  blown  to  pieces — regiment  after 
regiment — when  they  did  not  have  shells  to  reply 
to  the  Germans  and  when  they  could  see  nothing 
to  shoot  at. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  STOCKHOD    253 

There  Is  no  greater  test  of  the  bravery  of 
troops  than  holding  fast  to  a  position  when  they 
are  smothered  in  artillery  fire  from  long  range 
guns  and  have  nothing  with  which  to  hit  back  at 
the  enemy.  Yet  these  Russians  did  It  time  and 
time  again  in  the  early  days  of  the  war — when  the 
very  trenches  in  which  they  sat  were  entirely  ob- 
literated by  shell  fire  and  whole  regiments  were 
annihilated  without  firing  a  single  shot. 

But  to  get  back  to  our  story.  I  worked  on 
through  the  morning  until  nearly  mid-day,  and  was 
wondering  what  had  befallen  my  friend  Captain 
Muhanoff  when  a  soldier  approached  the  dressing- 
station  and  addressing  me  said:  "I  am  a  soldier 
in  Captain  Muhanoff's  company.  He  was  killed 
this  morning  In  an  attack  and  Lieutenant  Sap- 
aroff  of  his  company  sent  me  to  tell  you." 

"Muhanoff  dead!"  I  exclaimed,  stunned  by  the 
news.    "No,  it  cannot  be !" 

"Yes,  Excellency,  it  Is  so.  We're  all  heart- 
broken. We  loved  him.  He  was  like  a  father  to 
us.  After  the  attack  this  morning  all  that  was 
left  of  our  company,  which  had  numbered  two 
hundred,  was  sixty.  I  saw  the  Captain  fall.  We 
had  lost  heavily  going  across  that  awful  marsh. 
He  was  ahead  of  us  as  always  In  an  attack.    We 


254  SURGEON  GROW 

followed,  dropping  by  the  dozens  from  the  ter- 
rible machine-gun  fire.  We  couldn't  go  faster  than 
a  walk,  for  at  each  step  we  sank  in  above  the 
knees  In  mud  and  water.  It  was  just  getting  day- 
light and  the  Captain  had  reached  the  first  line 
of  German  barbed  wire.  He  was  going  along  the 
edge,  stooping  low  and  looking  for  an  opening. 
He  went  only  a  few  steps  when  he  seemed  to  find 
a  place  where  he  could  get  through,  for  he  turned 
and  beckoned  for  us  to  come  on,  and  then  started 
through  the  opening.  I  saw  him  throw  up  his 
hands  and  fall  backward  and  to  the  side  into  the 
barbed  wire.  His  coat  caught  in  some  wire  which 
had  not  been  broken  and  his  body  fell  backward, 
bending  over  the  wire,  the  arms  hanging  down. 
He  was  quite  dead  when  I  rushed  up.  I  was  about 
to  try  to  get  him  down  and  carry  him  back  when 
I  heard  the  whistle  of  the  Lieutenant,  who  was 
now  in  command,  sound  the  retreat.  The  few  who 
were  left  of  our  company  turned  and  went  back 
through  the  marsh  as  fast  as  they  could  go,  and 
I  knew  it  was  certain  death  to  remain,  so  I  came 
back,  leaving  the  Captain  hanging  on  the  wirer 
When  I  got  back  to  the  trenches  I  looked  back 
over  the  marsh  and  I  could  see  him  still  hanging 
there,  held  up  by  the  wire.    He  can  be  seen  quite 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  STOCKHOD    255 

plainly,  and  if  you  will  come  to  the  trenches  with 
me  I  will  show  him  to  you." 

We  had  about  completed  our  work  and  no  more 
wounded  were  coming  in,  so  I  accompanied  the 
soldier  to  the  first-line  trench.  He  put  his  rifle 
through  a  loophole,  sighting  it  carefully  across 
the  marsh  toward  the  German  lines. 

"Look  now.  Excellency,"  he  said;  "the  front 
sight  is  pointing  directly  to  the  body  of  the  Captain 
If  you  line  it  up  with  the  rear  sight." 

I  could  plainly  see  a  gray-brown  object  hanging 
from  the  front  of  the  first  wire  hedge,  and  through 
my  binoculars  I  studied  carefully  the  ground  sur- 
rounding the  body,  fixing  in  my  mind  its  relation 
to  various  landmarks.  There  was  something  ter- 
rible for  me  in  the  fact  that  my  friend's  body 
hung  out  there  on  that  wire  and  would  continue  to 
hang  there  until  it  became  a  horrid  putrefying  ob- 
ject on  the  landscape  unless  something  were  done. 

As  I  stood  occupied  with  these  distressing 
thoughts,  the  soldier  at  my  side  kept  staring  out 
through  the  loophole  at  the  body  of  his  late  cap- 
tain, fascinated,  I  suppose,  by  the  horror  of  the 
thing.  All  of  a  sudden  he  fired,  and  before  I 
could  say  a  word  he  let  go  four  more  shots  in  rapid 
succession. 


256  SURGEON  GROW 

"My  God,  man!"  I  exclaimed.  "Stop I  Have 
you  gone  mad?" 

He  was  firing  point-blank  at  the  Captain's 
body  I 

"The  crows,  Excellency,  the  crows!"  he  ex- 
claimed, continuing  to  fire  as  fast  as  he  could 
work  the  bolt  action  of  his  rifle. 

A  sickening  sight  met  my  eyes  as  I  looked 
through  my  binoculars.  There  were  two  crows 
in  the  air,  hovering  around  the  head  of  the  Cap- 
tain's corpse,  and  a  third  sat  on  his  shoulder.  Its 
head  was  moving  with  short  vicious  stabs  in  a 
most  significant  manner. 

The  soldier  beside  me  was  cramming  a  fresh 
clip  of  cartridges  Into  his  rifle  and  I  could  hear 
him  sobbing  as  he  worked.  On  my  left  stood  an- 
other soldier,  gazing  stolidly  out  over  No  Man's 
Land  through  the  next  loophole.  He  was  paying 
no  attention  to  us  but  watching  for  a  glimpse  of  a 
German  or  an  Austrian  In  the  trenches  beyond.  I 
snatched  his  rifle  from  his  hands  and  before  he 
realized  what  had  happened  was  rapidly  firing  out 
of  my  loophole,  aiming  directly  for  a  black  spot 
against  the  brown  background.  The  soldier  at 
my  right  was  also  firing  slowly  and  deliberately. 

Thank  God  I    That  hideous  black  bird  sudden- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  STOCKHOD    257 

ly  took  wing — startled  by  the  Impact  of  a  bullet 
on  the  barbed  wire  or  some  nearby  object,  and 
sailed  off.  We  both  stopped  firing  and  heaved  a 
sigh  of  relief,  and  I  handed  the  empty  rifle  back 
to  the  astonished  soldier. 

"Will  you  stand  watch  here  until  to-night  and 
shoot  at  them  if  they  come  back,  providing  I  get 
the  permission  of  your  company  commander?" 
I  asked  the  soldier. 

"Yes,  surely,"  he  eagerly  replied. 

"To-night  I  shall  cross  that  marsh  and  bring 
his  body  back  if  it  is  the  last  thing  I  ever  do  I" 

"And  I  shall  accompany  you,  Excellency.  With- 
out my  help  you  could  never  find  the  body,  much 
less  carry  it  back." 

"Very  well;  you  remain  here  and  I'll  join  you 
at  nine  o'clock  this  evening  when  it  is  beginning 
to  grow  dark.  It  will  be  clear  and  I  think  we'll 
be  able  to  locate  it  by  that  big  pine-tree  and  the 
bushes  on  this  side." 

I  obtained  the  necessary  permission  for  the  sol- 
dier to  remain  on  watch  and  also  told  the  com- 
mander of  the  regiment  which  held  the  line  at  that 
point  of  my  plan  to  rescue  the  Captain's  corpse. 
He  consented  but  warned  me  of  the  danger  of  the 
undertaking. 


258  SURGEON  GROW 

"Be  sure  and  get  back  before  twelve  because  we 
will  probably  attack  again  at  that  time,"  he  added. 

Metia,  the  student,  hearing  of  my  plans,  re- 
quested permission  to  accompany  me.  He  was 
always  on  the  lookout  for  some  adventure  and 
this  affair  was  to  his  liking,  and  I  consented. 

At  nine  o'clock  we  joined  the  soldier. 

"The  crows  did  not  return  again,"  he  reported, 
"but  If  we  don't  get  him  In  to-night,  they  are 
sure  to  be  back  to-morrow." 

Snipers  on  both  sides  were  firing  occasional 
shots,  and  every  now  and  again  a  machine-gun 
would  let  go  with  a  sputter.  Our  artillery  was 
hammering  away  in  a  methodical  manner,  and  the 
Germans  were  replying  with  a  moderate  fire  on 
our  first  lines. 

While  It  was  still  dusk  we  slid  over  the  parapet 
cautiously  into  the  long  grass  In  front  of  the 
trenches  and  crawled  out  through  a  gap  In  our 
wire,  which  was  only  a  few  rows  In  thickness.  We 
wormed  our  way  carefully  through  the  grass  out 
onto  the  marsh,  where  we  were  protected  by  the 
tall  reeds  and  could  advance  with  less  caution  al- 
though still  forced  to  crawl  on  our  hands  and 
knees.  Metia  and  I  carried  revolvers  and  the 
soldier  had  his  rifle.    The  pine-tree  standing  out 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  STOCKHOD    259 

against  the  after-glow  from  the  sun  looked  black 
as  ink  and  we  had  no  trouble  in  keeping  a  direct 
course.  We  forded  two  branches  of  the  river  and 
crawled  out  on  the  boggy  ground  that  separated 
them  from  the  third  branch.  It  was  very  soft, 
so  that  we  sunk  in  almost  to  our  elbows  when  our 
weight  rested  on  our  hands.  We  were  soaking 
wet  but  did  not  feel  cold. 

We  could  not  advance  farther  until  it  was  quite 
dark,  and  lay  quietly  in  the  reeds  waiting.  Occa- 
sionally a  bullet  would  hit  with  a  plop  in  the  marsh 
near  us,  and  the  Germans  began  to  throw  rockets 
up  occasionally  as  it  grew  dark. 

When  it  was  quite  dark,  we  started  forward 
again.  We  had  to  be  on  the  watch  for  German 
patrols  and  wiring  parties  which  were  certain  to 
be  out  on  No  Man's  Land,  the  latter  to  repair 
the  damage  done  their  barbed  wire  by  our  artil- 
lery during  the  day.  After  we  had  waded  through 
the  third  branch  of  the  river,  which  came  up  al- 
most to  our  arm-pits,  and  were  advancing  across 
the  next  piece  of  marsh,  I  heard  a  regular  dull 
pounding  and  knew  that  this  was  a  German  wiring 
party  driving  stakes  with  a  wooden  mallet 
wrapped  in  cloths  to  muffle  the  sound.  They 
seemed  to  be  several  hundred  feet  away  and  as 


26o  SURGEON  GROW 

they  would  probably  be  Intent  on  their  work  I  did 
not  fear  detection  and  crept  cautiously  forward. 

When  I  reached  the  bushes  which  I  had  spotted 
during  the  afternoon,  I  could  see  the  stakes  of  the 
German  entanglements,  and  directly  in  front  of 
me  and  not  forty  feet  away  was  a  dark  object 
hanging  from  the  first  strands  of  the  barricade. 

The  pounding  continued  on  the  right  and  oc- 
casionally I  could  hear  the  guttural  sound  of  voices 
speaking  German,  but  I  could  not  distinguish  any 
members  of  the  party. 

Just  as  we  reached  the  wire,  not  ten  feet  from 
the  body,  a  rocket  rose  from  the  German  trenches 
about  seventy  yards  away.  I  felt  as  though  I 
must  have  stood  out  before  their  view  as  plain  as 
an  actor  on  the  stage  with  a  big  calcium  spot- 
light on  him.  We  lay  perfectly  flat  on  the  grass 
until  It  died  down,  and  as  nothing  happened  we 
decided  we  had  not  been  seen. 

I  felt  as  though  a  mllKon  eyes  were  peering 
down  the  slope  of  the  hill  at  us  as  we  crawled 
up  to  the  body  and  carefully  and  noiselessly  dis- 
engaged It  from  the  wires  on  which  It  was  caught. 
Barbed  wire  Is  like  the  strings  of  a  piano  when 
stretched  and  the  slightest  thing  catching  in  It  or 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  STOCKHOD    261 

striking  it  produces  a  loud  tang  audible  for  some 
distance,  so  we  had  to  be  extremely  careful. 

We  got  it  down,  however,  and  started  crawl- 
ing slowly  back,  Metia  and  I  taking  hold  of  the 
Captain's  icy  hands  and  dragging  him  between  us 
while  the  soldier  brought  up  the  rear  watching 
and  listening  carefully  for  danger. 

We  had  reached  the  clump  of  bushes  about  forty 
feet  from  the  wire  when  I  heard  the  soldier  hiss 
sharply  through  his  teeth.  We  stopped  crawling 
and  lay  perfectly  flat.  We  could  hear  the  swish 
of  the  marsh  grass  as  several  persons  approached. 
I  reached  for  my  revolver  and  Metia  did  the 
same.  We  thought  we  were  surely  in  for  it  as  the 
sound  of  tramping  men  approached.  Three  dark 
forms  appeared  in  the  gloom  between  us  and  the 
wire,  walking  slowly  along,  examining  the  en- 
tanglements. If  they  had  seen  the  body  before 
they  evidently  did  not  notice  Its  absence,  for  they 
passed  on  toward  the  left. 

It  was  a  difficult  job  getting  our  pathetic  bur- 
den through  the  streams  and  the  thick  weeds  of 
the  bog  beyond,  but  we  eventually  reached  our 
barbed  wire  without  mishap,  and  when  we  reached 
the   trench  parapet  waiting  hands   received  the 


262  SURGEON  GROW 

body  as  we  slid  it  down,  dripping  wet  from  its 
passage  through  the  river  and  marsh. 

I  was  soaked  to  the  skin  and  the  night  air  was 
cool,  but  great  beads  of  perspiration  were  running 
down  my  face  as  a  result  of  my  exertions.  I 
thanked  the  soldier  who  had  accompanied  us. 

"Niche'vo,  Excellency,"  he  replied.  "I  could 
not  do  less  for  our  poor  Captain." 

The  next  day  we  gently  lowered  the  body  of 
the  brave  fellow  into  his  last  resting-place  and 
placed  over  his  grave  a  rough  wooden  cross  on 
which  was  burned,  with  a  hot  iron,  his  name, 
regiment  and  the  date  of  his  death. 

I  felt  glad  that  we  had  been  able  to  give  him 
a  decent  burial.  I  know  that  had  we  not  recov- 
ered his  body  I  would  have  been  haunted  all  my 
life  by  the  vision  of  that  dangling  form  on  the 
barbed  wire  with  the  carrion  crows  hovering 
around  it  for  their  horrid  work. 

The  horrible  conditions  which  exist  in  No 
Man's  Land  after  heavy  fighting  is  one  of  the 
things  that  makes  the  war  so  awful  to  the  man 
in  the  trenches. 


Cossacks  charging  into  a  burning  village  to  clean  out  the  Austro-Ger- 
mans,  during  the  battle  of  Stockhod.  A  bomb  burst  in  the  field  to  the 
left  just  as  this  photograph  was  taKen,  and  the  two  men  ahead  can  be 
seen  turning  sharply  around.  In  this  village  the  author  was  shot  by  a 
German  who  was  concealed  in  a  dug-out. 


^^ 

'.-•;-W"  \^^^-^m^^^        h 

- 

m^      "  .iiwwjiiiij^   i' ■  .\^^-^^v",^ 

"  I  know  that  had  we  not  recovered  his  body  I  should  have  been  haunted 

all  my  life  by  the  vision  of  that  dangling  form  on  the  barbed  wire  with 

the  carrion  crows  hovering  around  it  for  their  horrid  work." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

WE  BREAK  THROUGH ! 

A  LL  day  our  artillery  had  kept  up  an  Intense 
fire  on  the  German  lines.  Fresh  regiments 
from  our  corps  replaced  the  ones  depleted  by  the 
previous  attack. 

Engineer  battalions  worked  all  day  in  the  for- 
est, felling  trees  and  cutting  the  logs  into  pieces 
suitable  for  bridge  building.  Should  the  attack 
prove  successful,  It  would  be  necessary  to  rebuild 
the  three  bridges  that  led  across  the  marsh. 

These  timbers  were  carried  to  the  edge  of 
the  forest  by  the  road,  under  the  protection  of 
the  screening  trees,  and  were  placed  In  regular 
order  so  that  no  confusion  would  result  if  It  be- 
came necessary  to  put  them  in  place  at  night  when 
all  of  the  work  would  have  to  be  done  In  dark- 
ness, for  the  enemy  commanded  the  road  from 
their  position  on  the  sand-hills. 

At  ten  o'clock  our  Siberians  made  a  terrific 
263 


264  SURGEON  GROW 

attack,  wave  after  wave  of  men  being  sent  over 
the  marsh  In  the  face  of  a  devastating  fire  from 
German  machine-guns,  rifles  and  artillery. 

Despite  their  enormous  losses  they  stormed  the 
Austro-German  positions,  carrying  all  three  lines 
of  defense  and  driving  them  back  to  the  depth  of 
five  meters  beyond  the  river. 

Attacks  were  carried  out  all  along  the  lines  for 
the  distance  of  twenty  kilometers,  but  our  corps 
was  the  only  one  to  penetrate  the  German  posi- 
tions. The  result  was  that  both  flanks  failed  to 
advance  and  an  extremely  difficult  problem  devel- 
oped. 

Our  men  were  across  the  river  and  consolidat- 
ing their  lines  four  miles  back  from  the  stream 
In  the  center.  From  this  point  our  position  sloped 
back  in  a  curving  line  toward  either  flank  where 
the  supporting  troops  had  failed  to  cross  the  river. 
In  other  words,  we  had  penetrated  on  a  six-mile 
front  to  a  depth  of  four  miles  at  the  deepest  point, 
forming  a  nasty  salient  open  to  a  flanking  fire  from 
the  Austro-German  guns. 

Running  through  the  center  of  this  salient  was 
the  single  road  through  which  all  supplies  to  the 
advanced  lines  had  to  be  carried.  The  wounded 
also  had  to  be  brought  over  this  road.    As  it  was 


WE  BREAK  THROUGH!  265 

raised  above  the  level  of  the  flat  marsh,  standing 
out  In  plain  view  of  the  enemy  observers,  anything 
attempting  to  cross  was  under  their  direct  fire. 

The  engineer  battalion  rushed  up  bridge  parts, 
and  by  the  time  the  first  streaks  of  dawn  appeared 
In  the  east,  we  received  word  the  bridges  were 
completed. 

The  commander  of  the  fourth  regiment,  which 
was  holding  the  extreme  end  of  the  salient  across 
the  river,  called  up  by  telephone  asking  us  to  move 
our  dressing  station  up  as  nearly  as  possible  to  the 
newly  established  first-line  and  to  bring  some  am- 
bulances over  as  soon  as  possible,  for  there  were 
hundreds  of  wounded  lying  about  in  the  fields. 

I  accordingly  ordered  five  ambulances  and  a 
wagon  carrying  supplies  to  be  in  readiness  to  start 
across  the  road  for  the  other  side,  and  Metia  and 
I  rode  ahead  to  pick  out  the  location  for  this  ad- 
vanced dressing  station. 

As  we  came  to  the  edge  of  the  forest  and  looked 
out  over  the  road  we  saw  that  it  was  a  spouting 
lane  of  flying  dirt  and  smoke  from  the  German 
shells  where  they  were  trying  to  destroy  the  newly 
constructed  bridges  and  to  wreck  the  surface  of 
the  road  with  shell  holes.  I  could  see  a  number 
of  dead  horses   stretched  out  on  the  roadside. 


266  SURGEON  GROW 

They  were  from  a  mountain  battery  which  had 
crossed  just  at  daybreak.  Not  a  living  thing 
was  visible — indeed,  nothing  could  possibly  live 
in  that  welter  of  flying  shell  fragments. 

We  stopped  our  horses  and  surveyed  the  lane 
of  death  over  which  we  had  to  pass  to  reach  the 
other  side. 

"Do  you  think  we  can  make  it,  Metia?"  I 
asked. 

His  face  was  dead  white  and  his  jaw  set. 

"We  have  to  make  it!"  he  answered  grimly. 

We  could  perhaps  have  walked  it  in  greater 
safety,  but  the  commander  had  ordered  us  to 
hurry  and  I  decided  to  take  it  at  a  gallop  and  take 
a  chance.  The  five  ambulances  and  the  supply 
wagon  drove  up  and  I  ordered  them  to  wait  until 
we  reached  the  other  side. 

"When  I  wave  my  handkerchief  from  the  edge 
of  the  woods  on  the  sand-hills,"  I  commanded, 
"whip  up  your  horses  and  come  over  at  a  gallop. 
Scatter  out  well  and,  if  any  one  is  hit,  stop  and 
pick  him  up  and  bring  him  with  you  but  let  the 
horse  and  ambulance  remain," 

"Tak  tochena!  (Yes,  surely)"  they  replied  in 
chorus;  and  that  was  always  the  way  when  told 


WE  BREAK  THROUGH!  267 

to  do  anything — no  matter  how  impossible  the 
task  might  seem. 

We  gave  our  ponies  the  spurs  and  started 
across.  We  bent  low  In  the  saddle,  and  the  torn 
surface  of  the  road  seemed  simply  to  fly  by  as 
our  ponies,  excited  by  the  scream  of  the  shell  and 
the  crashing  explosions,  lengthened  their  stride. 

We  were  a  quarter  of  the  way  across  when 
my  pony  suddenly  braced  his  feet  under  him,  shd 
a  few  yards  and  came  to  a  dead  stop,  almost 
throwing  me  over  his  head,  so  sudden  was  the 
movement.  Metia  reined  In  his  horse,  narrowly 
missing  running  me  down.  My  pony  was  now 
rearing,  his  front  feet  pawing  the  air.  He  tried 
to  turn  back  but  I  plied  the  spurs  and  whipped 
him  cruelly  with  my  Cossack  knout. 

I  saw  now  what  the  trouble  was.  Lying  on 
the  side  of  the  road  was  a  dead  artillery  horse, 
his  feet  sticking  out  in  the  road,  and  my  pony 
was  afraid  to  pass  him.  He  snorted  and  shied  as 
the  shells  burst  unpleasantly  near  him  with  loud 
reports  and  the  air  hummed  with  deadly  flying 
fragments.  I  shouted  to  Metia  to  ride  on,  think- 
ing that  if  my  horse  saw  the  other  one  go  by  the 
dead   animal   he   would   follow.      Metia   dashed 


268  SURGEON  GROW 

ahead,  and  after  spurring  and  beating  him  my 
pony  followed. 

We  thundered  over  the  first  bridge.  The  sec- 
ond bridge  had  been  hit  by  a  shell  and  some  engi- 
neers who  had  been  lying  under  cover  of  the  em- 
bankment were  busy  repairing  it.  We  crossed 
the  third  bridge  and  finally  galloped  into  the  pro- 
tecting grove  of  trees,  and  I  rode  back  to  the 
edge  of  the  wood  to  a  high  ridge  where  I  could 
be  seen  by  our  drivers  on  the  other  side  and  waved 
a  handkerchief  in  the  air.  As  I  had  half  sus- 
pected, the  thing  had  really  looked  worse  from  the 
other  end  of  the  road  than  it  really  was,  for  the 
shells  were  not  so  close  together  as  they  appeared 
to  be. 

After  a  few  minutes  I  saw  the  ambulances  shoot 
out  of  the  forest  and  start  across  the  road,  the 
horses  galloping  and  the  dust  flying. 

Everything  went  well  until  they  were  half-way 
across.  Then  apparently  they  were  seen  by  the 
Austro-German  observers,  for  I  saw  the  yellow- 
white  puff  of  shrapnel  directly  above  them.  The 
second  ambulance  veered  to  the  side  of  the  road, 
the  horse  stumbling  and  falling,  and  the  ambulance 
overturned.  The  driver  was  thrown  out  in  the 
middle  of  the  road  and  lay,  a  little  inert  spot,  on 


WE  BREAK  THROUGH!  269 

the  brown  surface  of  the  road.  The  ambulance 
immediately  in  back  of  him  stopped  and  I  saw 
the  driver  leap  out,  gather  his  fallen  companion 
in  his  arms,  place  him  in  the  ambulance,  leap  back 
on  the  driver's  seat  and  whip  up  his  horse. 

The  Germans  continued  to  rain  shrapnel  down 
on  them,  but  were  timing  their  shells  badly,  so  that 
they  burst  beyond  the  road  and  the  remainder  of 
the  party  reached  the  sheltering  growth  of  trees 
in  safety.  I  found  that  the  driver  had  been  struck 
in  the  shoulder  by  a  shrapnel  ball  which  passed 
through  downward  and  forward,  emerging  from 
his  chest  just  below  the  collar-bone.  We  hastily 
bound  him  up,  put  him  in  the  ambulance,  and 
went  on.  The  road  was  fairly  well  screened  by 
trees  and  we  were  able  to  reach  our  troops,  who 
were  occupying  the  captured  third  line  of  Austrian 
trenches. 

Leaving  the  ambulances  under  some  trees,  I 
started  for  these  trenches  just  as  our  soldiers  left 
them  in  another  attack  against  the  Austro-Ger- 
mans,  who  were  desperately  endeavoring  to  de- 
fend a  small  village  which  had  been  partly  de- 
stroyed by  our  artillery. 

They  had  numerous  machine-gun  emplacements 
and  strong  dug-outs  in  this  village,  but  our  troops, 


270  SURGEON  GROW 

although  they  lost  heavily,  were  able  to  force  them 
out.  I  could  see  them  advancing  beyond  the  vil- 
lage after  a  few  moments  of  sharp  fighting.  If 
they  drove  the  Austro-Germans  back  far  enough 
I  saw  that  this  village  would  make  an  ideal  loca- 
tion for  an  advanced  dressing  station,  so  I  cau- 
tiously followed  up  on  foot  toward  the  village. 

Wounded  Austrians,  Germans  and  Russians 
lay  sprawled  on  the  ground  together,  and  a  great 
many  dead  on  both  sides  were  scattered  thickly 
about.  The  village  was  a  tumbled  mass  of  ruins, 
part  of  which  was  still  smoking  from  the  recent 
fire  caused  by  our  artillery. 

I  noticed  the  entrance  to  a  large  dug-out  along 
the  edge  of  the  village.  Several  telephone  wires, 
which  the  Germans  had  not  had  time  to  remove, 
led  down  Into  it.  I  decided  it  would  make  an  ex- 
cellent dressing  station,  for  it  had  thick  walls  and 
would  stand  heavy  shelling. 

Before  I  went  down  the  steps  I  examined  my 
revolver,  as  I  had  no  hand-grenades  with  me  and 
I  recalled  a  similar  experience  I  had  had  early  in 
my  trench-warfare  adventures. 

The  dug-out  was  dark  and  as  I  entered  I  could 
just  make  out  a  rough  table  littered  with  papers. 
Then  there  was  a  sudden  stabbing  flash  of  light 


WE  BREAK  THROUGH!  271 

from  the  side,  the  sharp  crack  of  a  revolver,  and 
I  felt  a  stinging  pain  in  my  abdomen.  With  the 
flash,  I  fired,  blindly  aiming  at  the  direction  from 
which  it  had  come,  leaning  partly  over  the  table 
to  do  so,  and  jumped  back  from  the  door. 

I  felt  weak  and  giddy,  and  beads  of  perspiration 
were  on  my  forehead.  I  unloosened  my  clothing 
and  found  that  the  bullet  which  had  struck  me  had 
just  grazed  the  skin,  producing  a  red  wheal  across 
my  abdomen.  In  the  language  of  the  old  hunters 
of  central  Pennsylvania,  I  had  been  "scutched." 

I  sat  down  on  one  of  the  steps  to  regain  my  com- 
posure. As  I  had  leaped  back  through  the  door 
I  had  heard  something  metallic  clatter  to  the  floor 
of  the  dug-out  and  now  I  could  hear  a  shufiling 
and  the  sound  of  labored  breathing  coming  from 
inside.  Then  I  heard  a  drip,  drip,  drip,  as  though 
water  was  spiUing  from  some  overturned  vessel 
on  to  the  floor  of  the  dug-out.  I  waited  possibly 
five  minutes  and  then,  still  holding  my  revolver,  I 
peered  into  the  dark  interior.  As  my  eyes  became 
accustomed  to  the  gloom  I  saw  a  man  in  the  gray 
uniform  of  Germany  seated  on  a  bench  beside  the 
table.  He  was  leaning  back,  his  head  resting 
against  the  wall  and  turned  to  one  side.  As  he 
did  not  move  I  stepped  into  the  dug-out  and,  point- 


272  SURGEON  GROW 

ing  my  revolver  at  him,  walked  over  and  pushed 
him  on  the  shoulder.  He  slid  limply  off  the 
side  of  the  bench,  his  body  resting  against  its 
arm. 

Blood  was  flowing  from  a  wound  In  his  left 
chest  just  above  the  heart  and,  running  down  over 
the  bench  and  dropping  to  the  floor,  had  pro- 
duced the  sound  which  I  had  heard.  On  the  floor 
lay  the  latest  type  of  German  automatic  revolver. 
By  his  uniform  I  saw  that  he  was  an  under-officer, 
and  when  I  came  to  examine  him  I  found  that  he 
had  a  slight  wound  from  a  bullet  through  the  left 
arm. 

I  had  killed  him  with  my  first  shot,  merely  by 
chance,  for  I  did  not  see  him  and  only  fired  at  the 
flash  of  his  gun. 

In  discussing  the  Incident  later  with  the  com- 
mander of  the  regiment,  he  told  me  that  the  Ger- 
man officers  had  told  their  men  that  the  Russians 
were  attacking  with  Cossacks  who,  when  they  took 
prisoners,  always  cut  their  tongues  out  and  their 
ears  off,  and  this  under-officer,  having  been  wound- 
ed and  fearing  capture,  had  evidently  decided  to 
sell  his  life  as  dearly  as  possible  when  he  saw  me 
enter  the  dug-out,  rather  than  be  captured. 

We  established  our  advanced  dressing  station 


Orderly  who  rescued  a  wounded  man  who  lay  for  five  days  under  the 

German  barbed  wire.     This  old  Russian  specialized  in  rescuing  wounded 

from  under  the  Germans'  noses. 


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Shot  through  the  lung,  this  wounded  Russian  soldier  lay  for  five  days 
under  the  German  barbed  wire  not  40  feet  from  their  trenches.  He 
begged  them  to  shoot  him  or  take  him  in,  but  they  refused,  allowing  him 
to  lie  there  without  food  or  water.  He  was  rescued  in  broad  daylight  by 
the  bearded  orderly  in  the  background,  who  crawled  through  the  marsh 
grasses  and  dragged  him  back  to  the  Russian  lines. 


WE  BREAK  THROUGH!  273 

In  the  dug-out  and  proceeded  to  take  care  of  the 
wounded  Germans  and  Russians.  Our  lines  had 
been  advanced  another  mile  beyond  the  village 
and  here,  encountering  strong  resistance,  our  men 
had  dug  themselves  in. 

We  remained  in  this  situation  for  ten  days,  dur- 
ing which  the  enemy  made  eleven  desperate  coun- 
ter-attacks, but  they  were  unable  to  break  through. 

It  was  an  extremely  difficult  task  to  get  our 
wounded  back  over  the  road  across  the  marsh. 
We  could  send  them  only  at  night,  for  the  Ger- 
mans, although  they  could  plainly  distinguish  the 
Red  Cross  on  the  side  of  our  ambulances,  never 
lost  an  opportunity  to  pour  a  terrific  fire  on  the 
wounded-laden  carts. 

The  German  system  of  shelling  Red  Cross 
dressing  stations  and  ambulance  columns  and  fir- 
ing on  the  wounded  as  they  crawl  back  to  their 
lines  is  to  my  mind  one  of  the  significant  things 
of  this  war. 

Were  it  done  by  a  savage,  unlearned  people 
such  as  the  wild  African,  one  could  understand  it, 
but  when  ordered  by  the  highest  officials  of  a  so- 
called  Kultured  race  It  points  out  with  startling 
vividness  the  great  menace  which  threatens  the 
civilized  world.     It  has  a  very  distinct  object: 


274  SURGEON  GROW 

namely,  to  Instil  Into  the  minds  of  our  peasant 
soldier  an  absolute  loathing  and  horror  of  the 
war — in  other  words,  to  break  his  morale. 

Whether  It  will  accomplish  its  purpose  I  cannot 
say,  but  It  surely  will  show  clearly  to  all  thinking 
people  that  the  Potsdam  ring  must  be  broken. 
Germany  must  not,  shall  not,  win  this  war  I 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A   BLIND   ARMY 

'TpHE  bridges  were  destroyed  every  day  by  the 
■*■  German  artillery  and  repaired  every  night 
by  our  engineer  battalions  while  our  troops  were 
attacking  and  the  Germans  could  not  devote  much 
attention  to  the  roads  in  the  rear  of  our  lines.  It 
was  a  case  of  building  three  bridges  a  day  and 
as  we  remained  in  this  position  for  ten  days  our 
engineers  practically  rebuilt  thirty  bridges ! 

One  night  I  started  to  ride  back  toward  our 
main  dressing  station,  but  on  arriving  at  the  first 
bridge  I  found  my  progress  arrested  by  a  long, 
tightly  massed  column  of  artillery  limbers,  trans- 
port wagons,  ambulances  loaded  with  wounded, 
and  field  kitchens  which  were  crossing  to  the  other 
side.  Their  way  was  blocked  by  a  damaged  bridge 
which  the  engineers  were  repairing. 

I  could  hear  the  sound  of  dozens  of  hammers, 
the  low  commands  of  the  officers,  and  the  splash- 
ing of  hundreds  of  men  who  were  working  in  the 

275 


276  SURGEON  GROW 

cold  water  which  came  up  to  their  arm-pits.  A 
German  searchlight  came  creeping  down  the  road, 
and  as  we  sat  there  waiting  impatiently  for  the 
completion  of  the  bridge,  unable  to  go  either  for- 
ward or  backward  because  of  the  congestion,  we 
realized  that  if  the  German  observers  spotted  us 
they  would  make  a  nasty  mess  of  the  closely 
packed  transport. 

A  shell  came  moaning  up  the  marsh.  The  driv- 
ers heard  it  and  sudden  panic  broke  out  as  they 
leaped  from  their  wagons  and  flattened  themselves 
on  the  ground  underneath.  It  was  one  of  those 
high  angle  shells  that  you  can  hear  for  a  long 
time  as  it  comes,  but  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
wait  until  It  landed.  It  wailed  over  our  heads 
and  burst  in  back  of  us  in  some  reserve-trenches. 
A  second  shell  landed  near  the  first  one,  and  I 
was  certain  that  the  Germans  were  firing  at  the 
trenches  two  hundred  yards  away  and  not  at  us 
at  all.  I  called  to  the  drivers  and  told  them  to 
get  back  on  their  wagons,  and  after  another  short 
wait  the  word  was  given  that  the  bridge  was  ready 
and  we  all  crossed  safely  to  the  other  side  without 
further  Incident. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  battle  of  the  Stockhod 
It  became  necessary  for  us  to  dislodge  several  com- 


A  BLIND  ARMY  277 

panics  of  German  troops  from  some  high  ground 
in  a  field  where  they  had  dug  themselves  in  shal- 
low pits.  They  had  erected  machine-guns  and 
commanded  a  considerable  sweep  of  territory.  The 
field  was  half  a  mile  across  and  it  was  decided 
to  use  Cossack  cavalry  in  the  attack  instead  of 
infantry,  as  it  was  believed  the  cavalry  would 
sustain  fewer  losses. 

A  regiment  of  Cossacks  was  accordingly 
brought  up  under  the  cover  of  the  forest  which 
faced  the  field.  Our  men  had  dug  in  along  the 
edge  of  this  woods  but  had  not  erected  barbed 
wire,  so  that  the  Cossacks  could  pass  directly  over 
our  trenches  as  they  charged. 

A  shrill  whistle  sounded  and  the  Cossacks  burst 
out  from  under  the  trees  with  loud  yells,  their 
horses  leaping  our  narrow  trenches  and  galloping 
across  the  field  for  the  German  positions  on  the 
hillside. 

Each  man  was  armed  with  a  fourteen-foot  lance 
with  a  knife-like  steel  point,  a  great  curved  sabre 
at  his  side  with  a  blade  like  that  of  a  razor,  a  short 
dagger  with  a  nasty  two-edge  blade  in  the  belt, 
and  a  carbine  on  a  leather  strap  slung  across  the 
shoulder. 

They  made  a  wonderful  picture  as  they  galloped 


278  SURGEON  GROW 

across  that  field.  They  had  scarcely  covered  half 
the  distance  when  the  German  artillery  put  up  a 
heavy  barrage  of  shrapnel  over  them,  and  the 
machine-guns  and  rifles  were  also  taking  a  heavy 
toll.  Every  here  and  there  I  could  see  a  horse 
and  rider  go  down  and  roll  over  in  a  confused 
tangle  on  the  ground. 

Despite  their  losses,  however,  the  regiment  got 
to  the  Austrian  positions.  After  running  the  Aus- 
trians  through  with  their  long  lances,  the  Cossacks 
would  ride  by  and  disengage  their  weapons  by  a 
strong  pull.  Occasionally,  however,  the  lance 
would  be  torn  from  their  grasp,  and  then  out 
would  flash  their  long  keen  sabres.  I  attended  a 
number  of  Germans  after  this  fight,  which  showed 
the  deadly  power  of  the  Cossack  cutting  stroke. 
They  use  a  free-arm  swing  quite  different  from 
the  lunge  which  the  American,  German,  English, 
and  Swedish  cavalrymen  use. 

One  man  I  attended  had  his  entire  arm  and 
shoulder  carried  away  by  a  single  blow  from  a 
sabre.  Another  poor  devil  had  been  struck  in  the 
top  of  the  head  and  he  was  split  through  to  his 
breast-bone,  the  skull  cut  as  clean  as  though  the 
work  had  been  done  with  a  saw. 

I  did  not  believe  that  a  sabre  could  do  such 


A  BLIND  ARMY  279 

deadly  work  until  I  saw  the  Cossacks  practising 
their  cutting  stroke.  They  erected  about  ten  birch 
stakes  in  the  ground,  one  being  placed  about  every 
ten  feet.  The  stakes  were  about  five  feet  high  and 
four  or  five  inches  in  diameter.  The  Cossack 
started  his  horse  at  a  gallop,  rode  down  on  the 
right  or  left  side  of  the  line  of  stakes,  and  with 
every  leap  of  the  horse  as  he  passed  a  stake  there 
was  a  lightning  move  of  the  arm,  a  sound  of  steel 
cleaving  the  air,  a  sharp  metallic  clink,  and  the 
top  of  the  post  flew  off  in  the  shape  of  a  neatly 
severed  block  about  two  inches  thick — cut  from 
the  entire  thickness  of  the  post. 

When  the  Cossacks  had  effectually  disposed  of 
the  occupants  of  the  German  trenches  they  sent 
their  horses  back  in  groups  of  ten,  each  group  be- 
ing urged  on  by  a  Cossack  on  horseback.  They 
came  flying  riderless  back  across  the  field,  the 
Austrian  shrapnel  bursting  above  them.  Many 
were  struck  but  the  majority  reached  the  shelter 
of  the  forest.  The  Cossacks  turned  their  light 
machine-guns,  which  they  had  taken  with  them 
strapped  to  the  backs  of  some  of  the  horses,  upon 
the  German  trenches  to  the  right  and  left  and 
rendered  them  almost  untenantable.  In  the  con- 
fusion caused  by  this  rapid  move  our  infantry  was 


28o  SURGEON  GROW 

able  to  advance  across  the  field,  reinforcing  the 
Cossacks,  with  very  few  losses. 

After  the  action  was  over  I  found  that  my 
horse  was  gone.  He  had  apparently  been  hit  by 
a  piece  of  shell,  had  torn  loose  and  run  off,  carry- 
ing with  him  a  new  camera  and  a  greatly  prized 
poncho  which  had  served  me  well  on  many  occa- 
sions. I  afterward  learned  from  some  soldiers 
who  had  seen  my  horse  galloping  wildly  along 
that  he  had  run  directly  into  the  German  trenches, 
carrying  with  him  my  two  most  valued  posses- 
sions. 

Our  tired  regiments  were  finally  withdrawn 
when  It  was  found  impossible  to  advance  the 
flanks  across  the  river,  and  fresh  divisions  were 
put  in  their  place. 

We  packed  up  our  equipment  and  proceeded 
back  to  Rovno,  where  we  boarded  trains  and 
started  for  the  same  positions  we  had  vacated  in 

late  July — just  south  of  Lake .     Here,  in 

September,  191 6,  our  sadly  depleted  corps  took 
up  a  quiet  sector  about  twenty  kilometers  long 
and  waited  for  something  to  turn  up. 

The  great  drive  of  Brusiloff  was  halted  only 
by  the  terrible  character  of  the  marshy  ground 
over  which  our  brave  troops  had  had  to  attack 


A  BLIND  ARMY  281 

and  by  the  lack  of  artillery  and  shells,  for  near 
the  end  of  the  fighting  we  were  running  very  short 
of  everything. 

On  several  occasions  after  having  taken  Ger- 
man trenches  our  troops  had  found  themselves 
without  even  rifle  cartridges  or  grenades.  We 
had  no  aeroplanes  worth  mentioning  for  observa- 
tion. During  the  entire  Russian  offensive  I  saw 
only  one  Russian  aeroplane,  an  old  type  of  Far- 
num  biplane,  so  slow  that  It  seemed  merely  to 
crawl  across  the  sky  on  the  one  occasion  that  I 
saw  It  up.  It  had  barely  got  under  way  when 
twelve  German  planes,  all  of  the  newest  and  swift- 
est type  of  fighting  machines,  began  to  close  In 
upon  It,  and  the  Russian  flier  had  to  descend 
Immediately. 

Ours  was  a  blind  army  unable  to  tell  what  the 
enemy  was  doing  while  they  were  aware  of  every 
move  we  made. 

Despite  these  enormous  handicaps,  however, 
our  troops,  In  the  space  of  three  months,  captured 
400,000  prisoners  and  took  many  hundreds  of 
miles  of  territory  from  the  enemy.  By  their 
bravery  they  released  the  pressure  on  the  Italians 
early  in  the  summer  and  preserved  them  from  In- 
evitable disaster. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

THE  GAS  ATTACK 

A  T  five  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  ninth  of 
"*-  ^  September,  191 6,  the  wind  was  coming  gently 
from  the  German  lines  toward  ours  with  a  scarcely 
perceptible  movement.  Metia  and  I  were  sleep- 
ing in  our  dug-out  about  three  hundred  yards  back 
of  the  first-line  trenches. 

I  was  awakened  by  the  sound  of  a  heavy  bom- 
bardment from  our  artillery  and  the  screeching 
and  sharp  explosions  of  German  shells  landing 
near  our  dug-out.  I  aroused  Metia  and  proceeded 
to  get  ready  to  go  down  to  the  trenches  to  find 
out  what  was  up.  I  slipped  my  gas-mask  over  my 
shoulder  as  I  threw  on  my  clothes,  although  while 
it  was  a  rule  that  officers  and  soldiers  should  al- 
ways wear  gas-masks  when  within  two  miles  of 
the  trenches,  we  were  all  rather  careless  in  that 
respect.  Indeed,  we  frequently  found  upon  exam- 
ining the  soldiers'  masks  that  the  box  containing 

282 


THE  GAS  ATTACK  283 

the  chemicals  designed  to  neutralize  the  gas  had 
been  emptied  and  contained  instead  tobacco, 
bread,  or  similar  articles!  Our  corps  had  never 
experienced  a  really  severe  gas  attack  and  our 
carelessness  was  more  or  less  natural. 

As  Metia  and  I  approached  the  trenches,  I  saw 
ahead  what  looked  to  be  a  swirling  bank  of  fog 
rolling  down  on  us.  It  was  only  about  fifty  feet 
high  and  it  crept  slowly  and  heavily,  seeming  to 
flow  along  the  surface  of  the  earth  with  a  hideous 
writhing  motion. 

I  realized  Immediately  what  it  was  and  shouted 
to  MetIa  to  put  on  his  gas-mask,  proceeding  at  the 
same  time  to  slip  my  own  on.  If  you  don't  get 
the  mask  on  before  you  get  a  lungful  of  gas,  it  is 
usually  fatal.  I  had  just  got  my  mask  Into  place 
when  I  was  surrounded  by  the  flying  wreaths  of 
the  yellow  vapor  and  I  heard  an  awful  cry  and  a 
violent  coughing  and  choking  back  of  me.  I 
turned  and  saw  MetIa  on  the  ground,  writhing 
like  a  chicken  with  Its  head  off.  I  ran  back  to  him 
and  tried  to  lift  him  from  the  ground  and  get  him 
back  out  of  the  gas,  but  it  was  too  late !  So  dense 
was  the  mass  of  vapor  that  in  five  minutes  after 
he  took  the  first  breath  of  the  vile  stuff,  he  was 
dead  I    He  had  come  off  without  his  mask  and  in 


284  SURGEON  GROW 

the  excitement  and  darkness  I  had  not  noticed  its 
absence. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  for  the  poor  boy  and 
I  left  him  and  continued  down  to  the  first  line. 
Not  a  single  rifle  shot  was  being  fired  and  I  won- 
dered whether  all  our  men  had  been  gassed. 

When  I  reached  the  trenches  the  upper  air  was 
growing  pure,  but  the  gas  still  clung  to  the  bottom 
of  the  trenches,  and  in  the  bomb-proofs  it  was 
very  dense. 

The  sight  that  met  my  eyes  in  the  trenches,  I 
shall  never  forget. 

Dozens  of  men  were  lying  about  in  the  bottom 
of  the  trenches.  Most  of  them  were  dead  but  a 
few  were  still  choking  and  breathing  with  horrid 
rattling  gasps.  As  I  flashed  my  lantern  on  their 
contorted  faces  I  saw  that  from  every  mouth  ex- 
uded a  great  heaped-up  pile  of  greenish-white 
froth.  With  the  help  of  my  orderlies  we  pro- 
ceeded to  drag  these  poor  wretches  out  of  the 
holes  where  they  had  perished  like  rats  In  a  trap. 

As  we  worked,  a  second  and  third  wave  of  gas 
passed  over  us,  and  following  each  wave  the  Ger- 
mans attacked.  Fortunately  the  attacks  were 
weak  and  scattered   and  our  machine-gun  men, 


Large  bomb-proof  used  as  a  dressing  station  and  small  bomb-proof  in 

foreground  where  the  author  lived  during  the  winter  of  1916-1917.     Here 

he  was  sleeping  when  the  Germans  launched  the  gas  attack  "'hich  killed 

2,000  men  in  this  particular  sector. 


5urial  of  the  dead  after  the  gas  attack, 
the  graves. 


Rude  wooden  crosses  mark 


THE  GAS  ATTACK  285 

who  had  been  able  to  get  their  masks  on  In  time, 
broke  them  up  with  comparative  ease. 

In  that  small  sector,  the  deadly  fumes  killed 
no  less  than  two  thousand  of  our  men.  The  stuff 
penetrated  to  a  distance  of  some  ten  miles  In  the 
rear  of  our  lines,  following  the  low  ground,  like 
a  river  flowing  through  a  valley,  and  at  this  great 
distance  killed  some  cows  and  horses  in  a  field. 

There  was  not  much  to  do  for  the  chaps  who 
had  been  slightly  gassed.  The  two  hundred  whom 
we  succeeded  in  getting  out  alive  suffered  intense 
agony  at  every  breath,  but  we  quieted  them  with 
morphine  and  sent  them  back  in  the  ambulances  to 
the  division  hospital. 

By  ten  o'clock  fresh  regiments  had  replaced  the 
one  which  had  been  wiped  out,  and  the  two  thou- 
sand dead  bodies  were  carried  back  to  the  ceme- 
tery in  back  of  the  lines,  where  they  were  placed 
row  after  row,  covering  half  an  acre  of  ground. 
Poor  Metia  was  buried  with  the  rest  of  them. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  REVOLUTION 

A  FTER  the  gas  attack  we  settled  down  to  the 
•^  ^  quiet  monotonous  business  of  trench  warfare. 
It  was  noticeable  that  the  morale  of  the  soldiers 
was  not  what  It  should  have  been.  The  long, 
arduous  campaign  of  more  than  two  and  a  half 
years  was  beginning  to  tell  on  them. 

Many  of  them  came  from  villages  thousands 
of  miles  away  from  the  fighting  front — Indeed 
most  of  the  Siberians  came  from  the  provinces  on 
the  Pacific  Coast  over  five  thousand  miles  away. 
The  military  authorities  found  It  Impracticable  to 
give  them  leaves  of  absence  and  many  of  them 
hadn't  seen  their  families  since  the  start  of  the 
war. 

The  remoteness  of  their  homes  from  the  Ger- 
man frontier  naturally  led  them  to  feel  that  the 
danger  of  German  Invasion  was  a  far  cry.  Then, 
too,  the  knowledge  that  all  was  not  well  In  Petro- 
grad,  that  military  secrets  were  given  away,  that 

286 


THE  REVOLUTION  287 

there  was  corruption  in  the  munitions  department, 
and  that  they  were  fighting  an  uphill  fight  without 
the  proper  support  at  home  had  a  very  depress- 
ing effect  on  the  men.  The  letters  they  received 
from  home  told  them  of  food  shortages  and  they 
were  anxious  to  return  and  provide  for  their  own. 

Not  only  was  the  food  situation  serious  in  the 
cities  but  we  were  beginning  to  feel  it  in  the  army 
too.  The  bread  was  bad  and  meat  was  scarce — 
in  fact,  there  was  very  little  fresh  meat  at  all  and 
disastrous  epidemics  of  scurvy  assailed  our  men 
and  materially  reduced  our  fighting  forces. 

An  army  must  be  fed  and  fed  well  and  there  is 
nothing  that  so  reduces  the  morale  of  soldiers  in 
field  or  barracks  as  bad  rations.  The  soldiers 
were  tired  of  it  all. 

In  mid-winter  the  news  of  the  death  of  Rasputin 
came  to  us,  and  with  his  bad  influence  removed 
everybody  felt  more  hopeful. 

In  November  Colonel  Kalpaschnecoff  had  gone 
to  America  to  endeavor  to  obtain  some  motor 
ambulances,  of  which  we  were  greatly  In  need,  and 
on  January  ist,  19 17,  another  doctor  having  been 
found  to  take  my  place,  I  left  the  front  to  help 
him  In  this  work. 

I  arrived  in  Petrograd  on  January  4th.    It  was 


288  SURGEON  GROW 

twenty  degrees  below  zero  and  long  lines  of  peo- 
ple were  standing  from  early  morning  till  mid-day 
waiting  for  the  opportunity  to  buy  food  from  the 
stores — which  had  very  little  to  sell. 

They  were  a  patient  lot,  as  they  stood  for  hours 
shivering  in  their  scanty  garments.  Several  small 
demonstrations  had  been  made  in  the  squares,  the 
poor  souls  clamoring  for  food.  The  price  of 
clothing  was  extremely  high.  A  pair  of  ordinary 
shoes  cost  $40.  Wood,  which  was  used  altogether 
as  fuel  in  Petrograd,  was  out  of  reach  of  the  poor 
people.  Rumors  were  going  about  of  trouble,  but 
no  one  looked  for  a  real  revolution. 

I  left  Petrograd  in  the  middle  of  January  and 
arrived  in  Christiana  about  the  20th.  When  it 
was  time  to  sail  the  submarine  blockade  had  been 
declared  by  Germany  and  it  was  impossible  for 
our  boat  to  proceed  to  Kirkwall  for  examination, 
and  the  Enghsh  would  not  allow  it  to  sail  with- 
out it.  Consequently  I  had  to  remain  in  Chris- 
tiana until  March.  While  there  the  news  of  the 
Revolution  reached  me  and  came  as  a  great  sur- 
prise. 

I  finally  obtained  passage  on  a  steamer  sailing 
for  America  and  on  reaching  there  found,  much 


THE  REVOLUTION  289 

to  my  delight,  that  we  had  at  last  decided  to  come 
Into  the  war. 

In  July  I  was  sent  back  to  Russia  on  a  mission 
for  the  Red  Cross.  On  landing  at  Vladlvostock 
I  was  struck  by  the  change  in  the  appearance  and 
conduct  of  the  Russian  soldiers. 

There  were  thousands  of  them  wandering  aim- 
lessly about,  with  apparently  nothing  else  to  do 
but  listen  to  the  countless  speeches  being  made  at 
every  street-corner.  They  were  no  longer  clad 
In  decent  uniforms  but  slouched  about  in  nonde- 
script garments,  their  boots  covered  with  mud  and 
dust,  listlessly  smoking  cigarettes. 

They  no  longer  saluted  their  officers.  Their 
soldierly  bearing  was  gone.  The  Insidious  preach- 
ing of  German  propagandists  had  sapped  their 
moral  fiber. 

On  the  trip  across  Siberia  I  saw  thousands  of 
soldiers  traveling  back  from  the  front,  crowding 
the  trains  to  suffocation-point.  There  was  little 
disorder  other  than  the  speech-making  which  oc- 
curred at  every  station.  Invariably  there  was  at 
least  one  Individual  who  advanced  the  idea  that 
America  was  In  the  war  only  for  the  purpose  of 
gain,  and  suggested  that  the  best  thing  for  the 
soldiers  to  do  was  to  leave  the  front  and  go  back 


290  SURGEON  GROW 

to  their  villages,  where  they  could  seize  the  land 
from  the  land-holders  and  divide  it  among  them- 
selves. These  orators  were  palpably  the  paid 
agents  of  Germany. 

In  Siberia  were  hundreds  of  thousands  of  Aus- 
trian and  German  prisoners  who  had  been  living 
for  months  in  the  villages,  tilling  the  land  of  the 
soldiers  who  were  at  the  front,  living  in  their 
homes  and  exerting  a  most  harmful  influence.  In 
many  cases  they  had  assumed  in  all  respects  the 
functions  of  the  head  of  the  house  in  the  cottages 
where  they  lived.  The  soldiers  at  the  front  knew 
this  and  it  naturally  had  a  bad  effect  upon  them^ 
for  they  wished  to  return  and  oust  the  parasites. 
The  situation  was  undoubtedly  brought  about  by 
people  high  up  in  court  circles  who  were  pro- 
German  and  who  contended  that  Austrian  and 
German  prisoners  should  be  as  well  treated  as 
Russian  soldiers. 

In  Petrograd  food  conditions  were  even  worse 
than  when  I  left.  White  bread  could  not  be  ob- 
tained at  all  and  it  was  difficult  to  get  sugar,  jam 
being  used  in  the  best  hotels  to  sweeten  coffee  or 
tea.  Well-dressed  Individuals  carried  their  own 
bread  into  the  best  cafes.    A  portion  of  the  bread 


THE  REVOLUTION  291 

would  be  consumed  at  the  meal  and  the  remainder 
would  be  carefully  wrapped  up  and  taken  away 
again. 

The  news  of  Kerensky's  offensive  and  Its  ulti- 
mate collapse  reached  me  while  crossing  Siberia, 
and  I  had  expected  to  find  the  Petrograd  populace 
gloomy  and  downcast  by  Its  failure. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  things  were  go- 
ing on  just  the  same  as  ever.  The  cafes  were 
crowded.  The  Nevsky  was  thronged  with  the 
usual  summer-night  crowd,  and  nobody  seemed  to 
care  much  whether  the  army  had  been  defeated  or 
not.  Shortly  after  my  arrival  In  Petrograd,  Rega 
was  evacuated,  and  while  this  caused  a  flurry  of 
excitement  for  a  day  or  so,  the  rumors  of  the 
counter-revolution  inaugurated  by  General  Kornl- 
loff  soon  caused  even  this  disaster  to  be  forgotten. 
They  were  all  so  Interested  in  what  was  happen- 
ing In  the  interior  that  they  paid  little  attention 
to  the  front. 

Things  were  happening  fast  and  furious.  To- 
day a  new  Minister  of  Agriculture  was  appointed: 
to-morrow  he  was  removed.  An  American  I 
knew,  who  was  attempting  to  do  business  with 
one  of  the  departments,  In  the  space  of  two  weeks 


292  SURGEON  GROW 

signed  contracts  with  no  less  than  six  different 
Ministers ! 

There  Is  no  doubt  that  the  soldiers  were  all 
very  sincere  In  their  support  of  the  Revolution. 
They  felt  that  It  meant  the  salvation  of  Russia. 

I  met  a  number  of  officers  I  had  known. who 
had  been  discharged  by  their  men!  They  had 
come  back  to  Petrograd  like  lost  sheep.  They 
had  absolutely  nothing  to  do.  Thousands!  of 
them,  Indeed,  had  enlisted  as  privates  In  the  Death 
Battalions  and  great  numbers  of  them  had  been 
killed  In  the  recent  offensive. 

When  the  prisons  In  Petrograd  were  opened 
after  the  Revolution,  the  Kerensky  government 
made  the  mistake  of  sending  great  numbers  of  the 
prisoners  to  the  front.  Together  with  paid  Ger- 
man propagandists  they  entered  the  ranks  and 
bred  discontent  and  confusion  among  the  soldiers. 

At  Rega,  I  was  told,  men  In  German  pay  had 
cried  out,  during  a  German  attack  on  a  vital  point, 
that  the  German  cavalry  had  broken  through  and 
were  In  back  of  them — spreading  panic  among  the 
poorly  disciplined  men  and  causing  them  to  break 
and  flee  before  the  Germans. 

An  army  commanded  by  the  soldiers  themselves 


THE  REVOLUTION  293 

was  quite  incapable  of  conducting  any  military 
movement.  Strategy  cannot  be  conducted  from 
one  point  in  the  line.  It  must  be  directed  by  one 
who  is  far  back  of  the  front  and  can  view  the 
situation  as  whole. 

The  generals  were  powerless  to  maintain  disci- 
pline. The  soldiers'  committees  arrested  them 
when  they  gave  orders  which  did  not  suit  the 
troops. 

Had  the  new  government  taken  a  firm  stand 
from  the  beginning  and  refused  to  recognize  the 
soldiers'  committees,  backing  up  the  generals  and 
officers  in  their  efforts  to  enforce  discipline,  retain- 
ing the  death  penalty  for  insubordination,  the  Rus- 
sian army  would  remain  to-day  an  important  fac- 
tor in  the  war. 

It  was  an  appalling  fact  that  this  magnificent 
fighting  machine,  composed  of  twelve  million  sol- 
diers, who,  at  the  time  I  was  with  them,  had  been 
as  fine  fighting  men  as  the  world  had  ever  seen, 
could  now  be  absolutely  inert  without  ever  having 
been  seriously  defeated  in  the  field. 

At  no  time  since  the  beginning  of  the  war  had 
the  Germans  killed,  wounded,  or  captured  sufH- 
cient  numbers  of  the   Russian  soldiers  or  taken 


294  SURGEON  GROW 

sufficient  material  to  destroy  them  as  an  active 
offensive  agent.  The  paralysis  of  this  huge  army 
had  been  accomplished  without  the  loss  of  a  man 
by  the  insidious  but  wonderfully  effective  agencies 
of  intrigue  and  propaganda. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

AFTER  THE  REVOLUTION 

COL.  KALPASCHNECOFF  was  In  Petro- 
grad,  where  he  occupied  an  Important  posi- 
tion In  the  newly  organized  Red  Cross.  He  was 
trying  In  every  possible  way  to  help  this  organiza- 
tion, which  had  been  badly  handicapped  by  the 
removal  of  many  of  the  officers  and  by  the  diffi- 
culty In  getting  men  to  carry  on  their  work  con- 
scientiously. Not  only  had  this  excess  of  liberty 
spread  among  the  soldiers  but  also  among  the 
orderlies  in  the  army  and  the  workmen  in  the  fac- 
tories. 

The  Twenty-first  Flying  Column  was  tempo- 
rarily commanded  during  the  Colonel's  absence  by 
another  man. 

I  desired  to  return  to  the  front  and  visit  my 
old  corps,  so  that  I  could  see  for  myself  the  con- 
ditions existing  in  the  army,  and  the  Colonel 
quickly  secured  permission  for  me  to  do  so. 

One  day  in  August  we  accordingly  set  forth  in 
295 


296  SURGEON  GROW 

a  second-class  coach  from  the  Nicholas  Station  on 
a  train  bound  for  the  front. 

"General  Pleschcoff  left  the  corps  a  month  ago 
and  returned  to  his  home  near  Vladivostock,"  said 
the  Colonel,  as  we  closed  the  door  of  our  com- 
partment and  settled  back  In  our  seats,  preparing 
for  the  long  ride  ahead  of  us.  "He  found  he 
could  no  longer  have  any  discipline  In  the  corps, 
so  he  gave  It  up.  You  remember  General  Pad- 
goursky,  who  commanded  the  First  Division — the 
very  fat  one  with  the  red  face?  He  too  was  dis- 
charged by  the  soldiers  but  he  re-enllsted  as  a 
private.  He  lived  in  the  trenches  with  them,  ate 
the  same  food,  and  slept  In  the  same  dug-outs — 
the  men  whom  he  had  formerly  commanded. 
When  the  attack  in  July  occurred,  he  was  the  first 
man  over  the  top,  and  although  sixty-six  years  of 
age  he  led  his  men  into  the  first-line  trenches 
where  he  bayonetted  two  Germans,  and  then  he 
started  on  alone  for  the  German  second-line.  The 
Germans  had  concentrated  a  great  many  machine- 
guns  and  men  In  their  second-line,  and  they  turned 
a  terrific  fire  on  him  as  he  dashed  across  the  inter- 
vening space.  He  was  wounded  twice  but  kept 
going,  and  his  men,  seeing  their  old  commander 
all  alone  and  about  to  plunge  into  a  trench  full  of 


AFTER  THE  REVOLUTION        297 

Germans,  followed  him — and  they  took  the  sec- 
ond German  line !  During  the  hand-to-hand  fight- 
ing he  was  bayonetted  through  the  shoulder. 
They  held  the  second-line  until  the  battalion  on 
their  right  gave  way  in  the  face  of  a  German 
counter-attack  and  they  were  forced  to  retire, 
carrying  back  the  wounded  ex-general,  who  raved 
and  cursed  all  the  way  to  the  Russian  trenches. 
Then  the  men  decided  they  wanted  him  back  as 
commander,  so  they  discharged  the  general  who 
was  commanding  the  division  and  gave  him  back 
his  old  place.  We  shall  probably  see  him  on  our 
arrival." 

This  General  Padgoursky  had  always  had  the 
reputation  of  being  a  fire-eater  and  was  known  to 
be  a  very  brave  man.  He  had  been  wounded  four 
times  in  the  Japanese  war,  twice  before  in  the 
present  war  and  now,  with  his  three  additional 
wounds,  had  a  grand  total  of  nine  wounds. 

In  the  corridor  of  the  car  we  met  an  old  ac- 
quaintance— a  man  who  had  been  a  colonel  in  the 
old  days.  He  now  had  the  uniform  of  an  under- 
officer  with  the  red  and  black  ribbon  of  the  Death 
Battalion  on  his  arm. 

"Things  are  frightful  at  the  front,"  he  said. 
"I  was  removed  from  my  command  and  I  enlisted 


298  SURGEON  GROW 

in  one  of  the  Death  Battalions.  I  have  lost  all 
my  property.  The  peasants  confiscated  it.  My 
house  was  looted  and  burned  and  I  am  almost 
penniless.  The  soldiers  at  the  front  stole  all  my 
equipment  and  I  have  just  been  to  Petrograd  to 
buy  a  new  one." 

The  next  day  we  found  the  cars  packed  to  suf- 
focation with  soldiers  who  were  apparently  riding 
about  merely  for  the  novelty  of  the  experience. 
Where  they  were  going  or  for  what  reason,  God 
only  knows.  They  surely  did  not  seem  to  have 
any  objective.  They  crowded  into  the  first  and 
second  class  cars  and  stood  stolidly  In  the  corri- 
dors jamming  the  compartments.  When  the  con- 
ductor asked  for  their  place-cards,  they  replied: 
"Tickets!  We  have  no  tickets!  Isn't  Russia 
free?  Can't  we  ride  where  we  wish  without  pay- 
ing?" The  poor  train  official  would  wildly  ex- 
postulate but,  unable  to  pierce  their  armor  of 
childlike  blandness,  would  disappear  waving  his 
hands  hopelessly  In  the  air. 

After  three  days  we  reached  the  little  station 
near  the  front,  where  we  were  met  by  our  old 
battered  victoria  driven  by  one  of  the  orderlies 
who  had  worked  with  us  through  so  many  months 
of  active  fighting. 


AFTER  THE  REVOLUTION        299 

The  drive  to  the  base  of  our  old  column  was 
about  fifteen  miles.  Although  it  was  In  August 
when  they  should  be  at  their  best,  the  roads  were 
almost  impassable  because  for  over  six  months  the 
soldiers  had  absolutely  refused  to  do  a  bit  of  road- 
mending  or  road-making.  They  were  worn  and 
torn  by  the  Innumerable  wheels  of  transport  and 
artillery  until  they  had  holes  in  them  which  were 
big  enough  almost  to  swallow  a  horse  and  wagon. 

We  passed  many  groups  of  soldiers  lolling  In 
the  fields  along  the  roadsides  or  strolling  about 
smoking  the  Inevitable  pungent  makorka  and 
orating.    They  didn't  salute  us  as  we  passed. 

We  finally  arrived  at  the  base  of  the  column, 
where  I  was  effusively  greeted  by  the  tall  lean 
student  NIcholi,  the  new  doctor  and  Michael,  my 
old  orderly.  Michael  begged  me  to  take  him  back 
with  me  to  Petrograd,  explaining  that  it  was  Im- 
possible for  him  to  do  any  work  under  the  rule  of 
the  committees.  I  said  I  would  try  to  get  him 
into  the  Red  Cross. 

They  told  me  that  in  the  July  offensive  they 
had  had  the  greatest  difficulty  to  make  the  men 
work  more  than  eight  hours  a  day  because  some 
of  the  larger  committees,  who  correspond  with  the 
I.  W.  W.  of  America,  had  told  them  that  If  they 


300  SURGEON  GROW 

worked  more  than  eight  hours  they  would  be  hurt- 
ing the  Revolution,  and  the  poor  ignorant  over- 
grown children  implicitly  believed  all  they  were 
told. 

In  the  afternoon  we  went  to  the  staff  of  the 
First  Siberian  Army  Corps.  It  was  located  in 
what  had  formerly  been  the  beautiful  country 
house  of  some  wealthy  landowner  but  it  was  now 
dilapidated  and  dirty.  There  were  no  sentries  on 
guard,  and  a  crowd  of  ill-kept  soldiers  was  loung- 
ing about  in  the  reception-room.  No  one  paid  the 
slightest  attention  to  us,  and  it  was  only  with 
great  difficulty  that  the  Colonel  abstracted  one  of 
the  individuals  from  some  engrossing  conversa- 
tion which  they  were  carrying  on  and  asked  him 
to  call  the  officer  of  the  day. 

He  slouched  off,  without  saluting,  and  returned 
presently  with  a  man  who  had  evidently  been  re- 
cently promoted,  for  he  was  neither  courteous  nor 
showed  any  of  the  signs  of  culture  and  breeding 
which  marked  the  officers  of  the  old  army.  We 
asked  to  see  the  commander  of  the  corps  and  were 
ushered  into  the  "operation  room"  of  the  staff 
where  all  the  orders  are  issued;  and  there  we  met 
the  little  mouse-like  individual  who  was  In  com- 
mand.    He  was  pleasant  and  courteous  enough, 


AFTER  THE  REVOLUTION        301 

but  one  could  see  at  a  glance  that  he  was  the  type 
of  man  who  would  be  absolutely  under  the  thumb 
of  the  soldiers'  committees.  As  long  as  he  re- 
tained sufficient  meekness  of  spirit  his  position  and 
his  neck  would  probably  be  safe. 

We  secured  permission  to  visit  the  trenches,  and 
the  next  morning  rode  out  to  the  first  division  on 
horseback.  Things  were  in  better  shape  there 
than  at  any  other  point  we  had  so  far  visited. 
This  was  brave  General  Padgoursky's  division. 
As  we  approached  the  staff  we  saw  this  huge  cor- 
pulent man  seated  under  an  apple-tree  by  a  table, 
drinking  tea.  In  front  of  the  house  stood  two 
sentries  who  presented  arms  as  we  passed.  It 
looked  more  like  the  army  of  the  old  days  and  it 
was  a  relief  to  see  a  bit  of  discipline  after  the 
weeks  of  chaos  through  which  I  had  passed. 

The  old  General  was  swathed  In  bandages 
which  made  his  rotund  figure  more  bulky  than  ever 
and  his  arm  was  carried  in  a  sling,  but  he  arose 
and  waddled  toward  us,  his  red  face  beaming,  and 
breathing  noisily  as  he  came.  We  talked  over  old 
times,  and  as  we  were  leaving  he  remarked:  "It 
is  all  right  just  now,  but  who  can  tell  when  they 
will  turn  on  me  like  a  pack  of  wolves  because  I  In- 


302  SURGEON  GROW 

sist  on  discipline,  and  then — finis  Padgoursky. 
Nu  nichevo!     (Well,  it  is  nothing.)" 

In  the  trenches  of  the  first  division  discipline 
was  on  a  fairly  high  plane  but  things  were  very 
quiet.  The  men  sat  about  in  their  dug-outs  and 
in  the  trenches  smoking  and  singing  and  playing 
the  balalika  and  but  for  the  fact  that  they  did  not 
expose  themselves  above  the  trench  parapets  one 
would  have  thought  the  enemy  was  a  thousand 
miles  away. 

Sanitary  conditions  were  very  bad  in  the 
trenches  and  we  were  told  that  great  numbers  of 
the  men  were  ill  with  scurvy  because  of  the  poor 
food. 

In  the  second  division  we  found  the  discipline 
of  a  very  low  order  and  we  went  away  heartsick 
at  the  deterioration  of  our  old  First  Siberian 
Corps — the  Ironside  Corps  of  the  Russian  Army. 

I  spent  a  week  at  the  front,  visiting  different 
regiments ;  and  while  conditions  varied,  one  could 
see  that  unless  some  very  radical  change  were 
made,  the  Russian  army  as  an  active  offensive 
agent  was  a  thing  of  the  past. 

On  my  return  to  Petrograd  I  found  the  city 
highly  excited  at  the  report  of  the  advance  of 
Korniloff  in  his  effort  to  wrest  the  reins  of  gov- 


AFTER  THE  REVOLUTION       303 

emment  from  Kerensky  and  establish  a  dictator- 
ship— which  we  all  thought  would  be  about  the 
best  thing  that  could  happen;  but  this  hope  flick- 
ered out  with  the  failure  of  the  Korniloff  move- 
ment and  we  could  see  that  things  were  rapidly 
drifting  from  bad  to  worse. 

I  left  Russia  before  the  Bolsheviki  party  over- 
threw the  Kerensky  government  and  took  control 
of  the  affairs  of  Russia. 

It  is  with  sadness  that  I  read  of  the  further  dis- 
integration and  demoralization  of  the  Russian 
fighting  machine,  and  yet  I  cannot  but  feel  that  it 
did  a  lot  for  us  when  it  was  in  its  prime.  It  was 
by  the  Russians'  great  sacrifices  early  in  the  war, 
when  the  Germans  were  sweeping  across  the  fields 
of  France  and  the  fate  of  Paris — of  France — ^yes, 
I  may  say  of  the  whole  world — hung  trembling  in 
the  balance,  that  the  tide  of  the  onrushing  Teuton 
flood  was  stemmed  by  the  Russian  advances  into 
Austria  and  East  Prussia. 

Again,  during  that  bloody  fighting  on  the  west- 
ern front  near  Lake ,  in  which  I  partici- 
pated and  in  which  our  losses  were  so  frightful, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  the  Russians  did  much  to 
relieve  the  pressure  on  the  French  at  Verdun. 

Then  Brusiloff,  in  his  great  drive  in  the  summer 


304  SURGEON  GROW 

of  19 1 6 — during  which  he  captured  400,000  pris- 
oners in  three  months — relieved  the  hard-pressed 
Itahans  and  forced  twenty-two  divisions  of  Austro- 
Germans  who  were  concentrated  on  their  narrow 
front  and  who  were  pouring  through  the  Alpine 
pass  to  be  withdrawn  and  sent  to  the  north  to 
check  the  Russian  onslaught.  The  Russians  un- 
doubtedly saved  the  Itahans  at  that  time  from  the 
disaster  which  subsequently  overcame  them  after 
the  Russians  had  been  eliminated  as  a  factor  in 
the  war. 

Yes,  I  think  the  Russians  have  done  their  bit. 
I  recall  the  hundreds  of  thousands  of  lonely 
graves  scattered  over  the  barren  fields  and  the 
dark  forest  and  the  gloomy  swamps  of  Poland 
and  Galicia  and  I  know  that  these  brave  Russian 
lads  did  not  die  in  vain. 


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